


From Which All That Was

by kamextoise



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Death Stranding Spoilers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Post-Canon, Redemption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:48:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 51
Words: 69,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23148013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamextoise/pseuds/kamextoise
Summary: Time kept coming, speeding faster and faster at a breakneck pace as Sam stayed exactly the same.
Relationships: Sam Porter Bridges/Higgs Monaghan
Comments: 275
Kudos: 358





	1. Chapter 1

It’s not as though he asked for this. He had no choice, had been manipulated before he was even born to begin with. Maybe it would have been better, when he was frail and so young all he knew was the sound of his father’s voice. It would have been kinder, dying there. Instead of the never-ending hell he’s found himself in.

It had been fine, for a while. Before it really started to sink in. To realize just what Bridget Strand had done, in order to keep her dream of reconnecting America alive. But she’s gone, now; cut off from the rest of the Beaches, maybe still watching over from her own. Maybe there’s already a new Extinction Entity, ready to destroy the world for good.

He thinks of Higgs, of that self-loathing journal entry he left for Sam, maybe one of the only ones that truly let the real man, and not the power-hungry terrorist, shine through. He’s probably still on the Beach. Bastard was a cold-blooded psychopath, but sometimes Sam can’t help think Higgs’ fate was a terrible one. Maybe worse than his own.

After all, the more time sped up, the more alien Sam felt. He never did find out how long he was on the Beach, but he gets the feeling it was hundreds of years. For Higgs, maybe it’s been millennia. God knows the real world feels like it enough as it is.

Time kept coming, speeding faster and faster at a breakneck pace as Sam stayed exactly the same.

Lou at two; looking adorable in her blue onesie the Chiral Artist’s Mother made for her. Her giggles at the children’s shows he found on the Chiral Network. The first time she’d exclaimed “Dada!” at him.

Lou, at ten; bringing her fist “boyfriend” home to the shelter, who stares at Sam with wide, wide admiring eyes.

He thinks he can see the BTs clearly now, since he’s started meeting the Preppers in the area, the ones he missed while working for Bridges directly, but who joined the UCA, inspired by the President’s speech a decade ago. Lou still wants to come with him, when he goes into BT area to free the stranded souls from the mortal plane. Sometimes, he still lets her. They’re so much stronger together.

Lou, at sixteen; riding her first reverse trike with a laugh and a “you’re the best, Dad!”

Die-Hardman; given a funeral procession shown live on the Chrial for the first time in its history. Now live-streaming is a regular occurrence. 

Lou, at twenty-seven; married, moving out of the shelter to live with her husband. “I’ll visit every weekend, Dad.” 

Sam knows for a fact he’s no longer a level two DOOMS. He’s able to Jump now, so many connections, so much power. It’s not the sort of thing he’ll ever abuse, except for, maybe, to come home faster after a particularly lengthy delivery.

It’s something to distract from the fact that even as he makes connections, he feels increasingly isolated.

Heartman, whose heart finally gives out. Sam never did learn if he found his family.

Lou, at forty; “It’s strange looking so close in age to you, Dad. I know you can’t help it, but the kids think it’s kind of scary. Ford is getting nightmares about it.”

Fragile, on her deathbed; now looking as old in the face as her hands did all those years ago. “I think you could Jump anywhere if you wanted to, Sam. You’re stronger than me, now. You could— you could go so far—,” she’s cut off by her own coughing fit, and the nurses usher him away. She dies later that day, and Sam is the one given the order to take her body to the incinerator.

At fifty-five, he stops hearing from Lou so much. She says it’s distressing to see her father looking younger than her. Sam says he understands, but his heart aches. His little girl, who he loved and cherished for so long. He knows her heart aches too; that bond they had so long ago has never gone away. He wishes there was something he could do. Some way he could wake up and be an old, old man, and not the ageless freak he’s become.

Lockne dies peacefully in her sleep soon after. She’s reunited with her sister, now. And Sam can’t help despair. How many people will he be forced to outlive?

He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

Sweet Louise, his beautiful baby girl, dies at eighty-eight. When Sam arrives at her funeral, Ford gets angry. Says he doesn’t want his grandfather here, looking even younger than he is. Later, Lisa sends him mail where she apologizes for her brother, ending her letter with “I love you, Granddad”. He cries until he has no more tears to shed, and wonders what he should do next.

Ten years after that, Deadman, seemingly ageless himself, is found in his office with the door ajar. He has a bullet wound in his head, and a note on his desk apologizing for the mess. A man without a Ka; Sam wonders what happened to Deadman’s soul. Did he even have one? He can’t say he remembers anymore.

It’s a brilliant fucking joke, isn’t it? Bridget-fucking-Strand, who went on about making America whole, building bridges. And here Sam Porter Bridges is, at one-hundred-and-forty-fucking-eight, and all his, _ha_ , strands have broken. A cruel fate from a selfish woman, for a baby who had done nothing but reach out for his father using powers he didn’t know he had.

One day, he doesn’t know why, he goes rummaging through his shelter for the memories from long ago. The dreamcatcher, he’ll always keep it. At this point, he’s not sure why. Trinkets here and there, from the Preppers he helped a century ago. He even still has the ridiculous otter hood. Maybe he should attach it to his coat, to remember. It’s only when he gets to the bottom of one of the boxes that he finds something he hadn’t been expecting. The mask; that creepy skeleton mask that Higgs had, the one he called his tribute to Ancient Egypt in his journal. 

Sam doesn’t know how it works; didn’t care to learn, didn’t ask all the times people said they were looking into it. He only knew it could make a person invisible, somehow. Maybe through magic, hell, maybe it was because of Amelie’s Beach. Whatever the case, he’s not sure why he has it in his possession. 

It reminds him of unpleasant things, of Lou wailing in her pod, of tar and monstrous beasts. He still has nightmares about Higgs’ lion. Of shooting it with bullets packed with his own blood that do nothing, with Mama dying on his back. Sometimes in his nightmares, Mama dies right there, never reuniting with her sister. Other times, the lion eats him whole, capturing him in a loop of dying and rebirth again and again.

How did he send it to the other world, again? Was it really as simple as shooting it with his own blood over and over and over again? It seems so simplistic, all of a sudden. Like Higgs’ constant desire to call every interaction with Sam a game. Like maybe he was trying to tell himself it was something he wanted to do, instead of a compulsion from coming face-to-face with the Extinction Entity and being unable to comprehend the truth he was seeing.

It’s a bitter irony, when he thinks of it. The idea that the man who caused untold suffering, who sent him on wild goose chases for fucking _pizza_ , is the last strand from that life that he has left. 

It’s not like Sam has never Jumped before; but only to his Beach, and only then when he knew where exactly he was going. Usually to visit one of the Preppers he’d befriended. It might be a challenge, for once, something to do besides drown in his sorrows and drink cheap beer that hasn’t changed in a century.

He stares at the mask. Why is he considering this? Higgs is a monster, a madman who killed countless people, destroyed Middle Knot, Capital Knot, and much of South Knot. A monster, who killed mercilessly and enjoyed every moment of it. But Higgs was also a deeply lonely man, troubled, and an easy target for the Extinction Entity to will over to her side, to be her puppet to bring about the apocalypse. 

It’s the man from before all that, the man who wanted to be left alone, but who did what he could for people, the man who worked with Fragile to build up a community the only way he knew how that Sam wants to save. Nobody, except for Sam, even knows his face.

It’s that man, the man who wanted to do good, that Sam hopes is still alive, somewhere inside of Higgs.

But all of that time alone on the Beach, there might not be anything left of either Higgs.

If he’d spent one hundred years wandering his damn Beach when one month passed in the real world, how many years has it been for Higgs? Ten thousand, ten hundred thousand? Fuck it, math has never been his strong suit.

Some part of Higgs, somewhere, must have wanted a connection to Sam. Why else would he reward Sam with schematics for custom-made guns? The mail with the order had to have been written ahead of time, too. Which meant that Higgs must have known what would happen to him. Or maybe he just thought it would be funny, to order a pizza from a dead delivery he’d personally killed.

Yeah, that sounds like him. Bastard.

But maybe the joke’s on Sam anyway, because he’d known Peter Englert was Higgs by the second order, and still completed them anyway. 

Still holding the mask, Sam’s eyes slip shut. He hasn’t done this in a long time, and with people almost never. He knows how to look for the strands, the strange, ethereal bands that connect others. He wasn’t always able to see them, and even now he can only sort of see them when he really concentrates. There are so many connections, some worn, so many that used to be but are now gone. He catches sight of a gold one, shimmering weakly through the sea of connections he’s made. It snaps into place.

He’s found him.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam doesn’t know what to expect, but when he jumps to Higgs’ beach, it’s so different from Sam’s own.

It’s littered with dead fish; the smell of decay is pungent and horrible. Every once in a while, he comes across puddles of tar. It’s enough to make him tense, but no BT appears. His own Beach had been empty, and endless, but somehow it hadn’t felt like this, hadn’t felt _hopeless_. Like the Beach itself had given up. He wanders through the sludge, wondering if it was always so difficult for Fragile. She’d made it seem easy, had been able to lead him to exactly the location he had in mind, directly to Amelie. 

It’s when he looks to the shoreline he spots who he’s looking for: Higgs, half buried in sand and carcasses, face up, staring blankly at the sky. If he sees or hears Sam coming, he doesn’t react at all. 

Doesn’t even twitch. 

“Higgs,” Sam says, and he’s surprised how even his voice is. The hate he feels for the man just isn’t there. It hasn’t been there for a long time. Higgs doesn’t show any sign he’s heard Sam at all. “Higgs,” he repeats, a little louder, a little firmer. Ice blue eyes swim around sluggishly, before finally landing on their target.

“Sam,” he says hazily. His voice creaks with disuse. His face is streaked with black. Some of it’s old, some of it looks newer. Some of it might even be fresh. With the sand on his face, it’s hard to tell. In all honesty, he looks like absolute shit. “Sam Porter Bridges.” He says it like he thinks he’s dreaming.

“Do you need help standing?”

Higgs says nothing, he only continues to stare up at Sam. He doesn’t look any older. It’s like he’d indicated in his journal; Higgs is a repatriate. Maybe the only other one in the entire world. Amelie had told Sam that she’d broken the cycle of life and death to allow him to live. Funny how the only other repatriate he’s ever met gets his powers from death.

All of a sudden, his eyes widen, as though Higgs has only realized now who he’s staring at. He laughs a manic, nervous giggle. “Fragile sent you here, did she? Wanted to know if I’d actually gone through with it? She didn’t look, you know. Girl’s too soft; didn’t even look at me when she handed me my gun.” He giggles again, struggling to sit up on his elbows, and when he fails, he flops to the wet sand once again. “Didn’t even look back once I’d fired it. Stupid bitch, if she had, she would have seen me repatriate.” 

Something inside of Sam breaks. He feels tears trickle down his face, ones he can’t blame on chiral allergy. His hand comes to rest on his father’s dogtags, clutching them in his fist.

“Fragile’s dead, Higgs.”

Sobriety fills Higgs’ eyes. “What?” he says.

Sam feels so very tired. “She’s been dead for forty-three years.”

“You’re lying. You don’t look a day older than when we last met.”

“I’m tellin’ the truth. You can believe me or not. Doesn’t change shit.”

Higgs doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, so he says nothing.

“Everyone’s gone,” Sam says after a while, quietly, to himself.

“Sam,” Higgs says. He’s staring at Sam’s middle now, finally taking in Sam’s appearance. A raincoat, but no Bridges uniform. No porter straps, no jumpsuit. He’s in a thick sweater and black jeans. “Sam,” he says again. “Where’s your BB?”

Sam falls to his knees and does not answer.

**

He’s not sure how long they stay there, saying nothing. Higgs has been alone for so long, maybe he needs the silence now. It certainly didn’t use to be that way. Higgs never shut up. But then, Sam was never one for words. The silence isn’t awkward or strained, staring out into the endless ocean. If he started walking towards it, wading through the sea, he knows what would happen. He would wander endlessly, until he once again found himself on the Beach. No current dragging him back, no looping around. He’d just be back where he started.

“How long has it been?” Higgs asks after what could be hours. Or maybe even days. “Since the Final Stranding was halted.”

“Ninety-eight years.”

“Jesus,” Higgs moans. “Ninety-eight… _fuck._ ” It’s possible he never realized just how much time passed, even on his own Beach. When there’s no day nor night, and you’re alone with nothing but your own thoughts, it can be hard to tell. Sam knows that firsthand. 

“Yeah,” Sam says. “It’s been a long, long time.”

“The UCA still around?”

“Two years away from its centennial.” 

Higgs manages to find the strength to sit up on his elbows. He looks sickly, weak. He could topple over at any moment. “How did you get here?” he asks. “You couldn’t do this before. I know you couldn’t.”

“My DOOMS got stronger, the more connections I made. Eventually, I could see BTs on my own. Years after that, Fragile and I realized I could use the Beach, same as her.” It’s probably not a coincidence it’s nearly a complete opposite of Higgs’ powers. His grow from death; Sam’s, from life.

“If you need connections to Jump, how the fuck did you find me?” Higgs accuses, looking dubious. 

“We’re connected, Higgs. We’ve been connected since you attacked Central Knot. Maybe before that. I didn’t always know; don’t think I could have explained it with words until now.” It’s maybe the most he’s ever spoken to Higgs. They did fight more than they did anything else, doomed to be opposites in a conflict with no winners. The Extinction Entity had chosen her pawns well. One man too stubborn to back down, the other too stubborn to see Amelie for what she really was.

“And you, what, decided to seek me out for closure?”

“No,” Sam says carefully. “I came to bring you back.”

“Why?”

They’re not so different, Sam and Higgs. A long time ago now, Sam had been resistant to connections. The idea of bridging others together. “Because, we’re connected. Because solitude is no way to spend an eternity.” Fuck, he’s a retired porter. He’s still not sure how he’s become the bridge to hold humanity together. He’s never been good at conversation, let alone comforting someone. 

“You should have had Die-Hardman write your speeches for you,” Higgs says dryly. 

Sam doesn’t want to tell Higgs how long it’s been since the first President of the United Cities of America passed.

“Say I believe your story, say I believe you’ve made this jump yourself, and haven’t had Fragile to help you. What makes you so sure you’d be able to take me with you, outside of the Beach?”

“Because,” Sam sucks in a breath. “Your Ha and your Ka are both here. If it were just your Ka, you’re right. You’d probably be stuck here forever. But it’s not.”

Higgs looks at him warily. Neither trusts the other, it only makes sense to be cautious. Considering the last time they met, it had been a battle to the death. There’s something dark and angry in his eyes, and Higgs’ hands remain flat at his side. “I suppose, Sammy boy, if it turns out you’re full of shit, this will have been an inconvenient nightmare.” He raises his right hand slowly. “So, I’ll get this over with now. _When_ it turns out you’re full of shit: fuck you.” Sam grasps it with both his hands.

He Jumps.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam has never done anything like this before. He’d Jumped with Fragile, using his Beach as a waypoint between their desired locations. But he’s never Jumped with another repatriate, couldn’t have. And he’s never Jumped from such a far-off Beach before. One he’s never been to and could only feel out because of his connection to Higgs. And he’s never brought another person with him, either.

When they both appear in his shelter a moment later, Sam sways unsteadily again the small bed, falling clumsily onto his back. Higgs collapses on top of him with an _oof_ , apparently too weak to move from where he’s fallen.

“Shit,” Sam mutters, as he nudges Higgs off of him so he’s fully on the bed. He should have taken into account how weak Jumps can make a guy. But he’s already reaching for the canister of cryptobiotes. They have an amazing taste, once you get used to them. A handful of them, and they’ll both manage fine. He presses one to Higgs’ lips. The man makes a face as he bites down on it, and gags.

“Vile… fucking cockroach,” he growls, but takes the second one Sam offers. By the third, he’s able to unsteadily grab it out of Sam’s hand.

He doesn’t sit up, doesn’t even seem to notice he’s laying on Sam’s bed. Not that it matters, Sam can still sleep anywhere. He’ll take the couch, until he figures out what, exactly, he’s going to do about Higgs. The thin man’s breathing is harsh, but not ragged. He’s not struggling for breath, but he doesn’t seem to be taking in his location. Maybe he thinks he’s still on the Beach. The cataclysmic shared nightmares may have stopped, but it hasn’t stopped Sam’s own nightmares.

Higgs must have them, too.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t say a thank you, doesn’t say an insult. He just acts like he’s dead to the world. 

“I’m going to order us supplies,” Sam says, because he’s pretty sure Higgs is listening, even if his eyes are closed. “There’s not enough food here for the two of us.” He steps away, to sit at the computer and puts in an order. Even nearly a century later, the name Sam Bridges holds a lot of weight; porters raised by porters have come to know his name, and routinely come by to ask him for advice. 

The porter arrives within 20 minutes, and Sam goes outside to greet him personally.

**

By that evening, between the cryptobiotes and real food, Higgs is looking about as well as one might expect for a man who has spent eons alone in purgatory. He smells strongly of saltwater and death, but Sam doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to stand on his own, and isn’t about to carry Higgs into the bathroom, either. He hasn’t spoken a word since the return Jump, but to be fair, Sam hasn’t said much of anything either.

Maybe because he’s used to it, the silence doesn’t bother him.

He doesn’t know how, exactly, Higgs’ powers work. He knows the man’s DOOMS grows with each contact with death that he has. Cut off from Amelie’s Beach, his power can never be infinite again, but Sam doesn’t exactly want to know just how powerful he could become if he wandered off into BT territory. Catastrophic voidouts haven’t happened in a long time; people are so much more careful now, with the Chiral connecting everyone. But if something were to happen, he can’t help worry that people would be quick to blame Homo Demens. 

They never truly disappeared, just went underground. Even now, inactive, Sam is certain they’re still around. If they somehow caught wind of something like that, if they learned that their legendary leader was alive, and unaged… Goddamn it, Sam Bridges. What the fuck did you do?

He’s not going to be capable of keeping Higgs hidden forever, nor does he want to.

When Higgs wants to leave, Sam isn’t going to be able to stop him. When he recovers more, he might be able to warp out of the shelter to God-knows-where and leave Sam with difficulty in tracking him down.

Sam busies himself with the work to do about the shelter. He might not work for the UCA any longer, but he was given a residence in thanks to his service to the country. These days, preppers aren’t as remote and spread apart as they used to be. He likes it, it reminds him of the neighborhoods of the old America he’s learned about on the Chiral Network. He likes to think that his parents lived in one, in happier times.

A shared perimeter means that if someone is coming through the area, everyone knows. Unless you’re Sam Bridges, and could Jump to and from your home whenever you want.

He still prefers walking the old-fashioned way.

With the former prophet of the apocalypse still silent, Sam puts on music. The musician he’d met in the Eastern Region nearly 100 years ago had become the first post-Stranding star. 20 albums in a career spanning 40 years, not counting the numerous concerts all available on the Chiral.

The cheerful sound of rock doesn’t get a reaction from Higgs. Not even a negative one. 

It’s only once Sam’s gotten himself settled on the couch for the night, the low light coming from the bathroom and the light from the computers the only places the darkness doesn’t touch, that he fully tries to work out what to do next. He could ask one of the doctors, but that might only illicit questions. He could look into the Chiral’s infinite collection of books, but that could take years, and he doesn’t even know where to start. How do you help someone who was broken by something unknowable? How the hell does he help himself, feeling more and more like maybe he’s not even real each passing day? He looks over to Higgs, who hasn’t moved from the bed Sam put him on half a day ago.

Higgs is staring blankly up at the ceiling.

He’s still unearthly quiet, the opposite of the man who never stopped talking, never stopped boasting. “I read a story once,” he says, his voice barely hovering over a whisper. “It was in Daddy’s collection.” He doesn’t elaborate, but Sam doesn’t need him to. He’s read the journals. He knows. “A powerful computer system meant to protect humanity became self-aware, destroyed all of humanity in one fell swoop, save for a group of unlucky people, whom it kept alive inside of a simulation for its own entertainment, to torture for all eternity. But our intrepid narrator, he didn’t want that anymore. Oh, no. He needed to play hero.” Higgs’ voice cracks oddly, and he sucks in a breath.

“He kills all of the others, one by one. Mercy. Ain’t nothing glorious about what he’s doing. But the computer overlord, oh, is it _furious_ when it realizes what he’s up to. Before he can finish himself off, it transforms him into a shapeless, harmless blob. Ain’t no way he can off himself now, like that. He’s fuckin’ doomed to spend the rest of eternity unable to die.” Higgs’ gaze flickers to Sam, before he taps his own chest. “That’s me. Got too big for my britches, and here I am.”

Sam scoffs. “Sounds to me like he was put in an impossible situation.” He’s not sure what he finds more annoying—the fact that the first thing Higgs says to him is about a book, or the fact that he’s decided to use the book to throw a pity party about himself. “Continue to live in agony, or try to kill himself knowin’ the consequences of failure are worse.”

Higgs lets out a long, frustrated sigh. “But that’s just _it_ , Sammy. If he’d accepted his fate, that shit would never have happened. Now he’s alone _and_ can never die.”

“You’re not alone,” Sam says without thinking.

“I was,” Higgs says, not noticing the significance of what Sam’s said either. “I was alone for so long.”

They’re both silent for a long time. Sam doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to be feeling pity for the man who killed so many people. Innocent people, good people. Målingen and her child who was never born. Igor. His entire expedition team. Middle Knot, Central Knot, half of South Knot. So many people, and for what? Higgs might not have been in full control of his actions, but in the end, he’d still done them.

“Why am I still alive, Sam? Why didn’t She let me die?”

Sam doesn’t answer, and if one of them is weeping, the other pretends not to notice.


	4. Chapter 4

When Higgs wakes, he does so with no little alarm. He’s not on the Beach, he’s not on the Beach, but where the fuck _is_ he? It takes a long moment of his eyes adjusting to the dark to realize he’s inside, he’s underground. He feels a mix of relief and intense claustrophobia, and then a sudden cold wave of nausea. 

The shelters are all laid out the same way, so even stumbling blindly in the dark leads him to the bathroom, not even managing to shut the door before he’s emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He doesn’t want to look at what vile substances the Beach must have made him regurgitate, so he flushes it with his eyes squeezed shut. He feels weak and sweaty, and to make matters even worse, he’s intensely aware that his DOOMS have entirely faded.

If he’s going to get anything back, he’ll need to wander into BT territory, and take down enough of them to feel at full strength again. Get his ability to Jump back, to warp wherever he wants, whenever he wants. Without Amelie’s Beach, he won’t be able to control the weather to summon BTs, won’t be able to control an infinite amount of BTs, but if he can just get his hands on enough of them…

But then he catches himself in that train of thought, and can feel the sweat on his brow. _No no no no._ He’s never going back to the Beach. He’s never connecting himself to that again, he can’t, he _won’t_.

The Extinction Entity had called him Her herald, but he’s not going to do that shit ever again.

What the fuck did it give him in the end? Nothing, that’s what. She didn’t even have the good grace to use Her powers to make sure a loyal repatriate stayed dead, like were his wishes. 

He stumbles out of the bathroom after drinking enough water he’s going to need to piss like a racehorse in 40 minutes, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t give one shit at all, until he notices Sam fucking Bridges staring at him from the couch, looking tired, but alert. Higgs peers at where he stumbled from, only now noticing the only bed in the shelter that he can see is the one he’d been lying in.

Which meant that Sam Bridges had put Higgs in his bed.

Fuck, Higgs Monaghan does not want to be in anyone’s debt, does not want to owe _anyone_ favors.

“Fuck are you lookin’ at?” Higgs asks, still convinced this is going to end up being an elaborate hallucination, and he’s still on the Beach even now. He can’t escape. Shooting himself in the head with an automatic close enough to blast off the entire top half of his skull hadn’t allowed him to stay dead.

How the fuck would a level two DOOMS like Sam Porter Bridges be powerful enough to drag his sorry ass from the Beach?

It’s not real, none of this is real.

“You look like shit,” Sam says, so seriously, so deadpan, that Higgs collapses to the floor laughing. He can’t even stand up now, all the feeling’s gone from his limbs, and he still can’t stop laughing. Sam stands up, and Higgs only stops laughing when his voice breaks, and he’s left wheezing on the floor. “And you smell worse than Port Knot after you dropped all those dead fish on my head,” he says gruffly, grabbing Higgs by the shoulder hard enough Higgs tenses, ready for a fight, lashing out with his right hand like he’s expecting to be able to summon his knife to him.

Sam steps back immediately, both palms held up in front of him in apology. “Let me help you up?” 

Higgs ignores him, climbing unsteadily to his feet, all weak and shaking and sweating, feeling like he might fall over again, and also thinking maybe drinking that water was a bad idea, because he really thinks he might puke again. “I thought you couldn’t touch people? Feelin’ awfully friendly, Mr. Aphenphosmphobia.” 

“Oh,” Sam says, looking like something’s just now occurred to him. “That hasn’t been a problem in a long time.”

“What, you just got over your crippling fear of touch?”

“Something like that.”

“Bullshit. Don’t fuck with me.”

Something dawns in Sam’s eyes, something Higgs doesn’t like, but doesn’t have the strength to lash out at. “You don’t like it. Being touched.” He shakes his head. “Wouldn’t have figured, with how often you needed to get your hands on me.” Higgs doesn’t like the way that Sam almost sounds wistful, and not angry. He should be furious, he should be brimming with rage. Not acting like he’s remembering some goddamn happy event from his youth.

“It’s different with gloves on, or when I’m fighting, when I’m the one doing it,” Higgs mutters. Not denying. Not even trying to deny it. Fuck.

“I won’t touch you,” Sam says. “But you really should clean up. Take a shower… bath, whatever. I’ll clean the sheets while you’re in,” and with that he turns around, keeping to his word of not touching Higgs as he starts pulling the sheets off the bed. They’re filthy; covered in tar and dirt and sand. Higgs honestly doesn’t want to know what some of the other dark stains are.

He’s not going to be grateful for Sam keeping his damn hands to himself, but he does manage to walk himself back to the bathroom with only a little trouble, shutting the door and making sure it’s locked three times before he turns his attention towards the shower bathtub. After a moment’s decision, in which he figures there’s no possible way he’s going to be standing for any amount of time in the near future, he strips off his clothes that immediately dirty the tile floor, stepping in the tub, and turning the water on as hot as it can get and still be comfortable. His hair is filthy, and hasn’t grown an inch, and his beard is in desperate need to be cleaned itself, if not shaved off to start growing it again from scratch.

As the tub fills, he watches it flood with the inky black that had consumed his life for so long. The tar, the grime. It makes his skin crawl, and all he’s aware of now is that it’s apparently been a goddamn century since he last bathed, if Sam is to be believed.

Not that he does, because that just seems so convenient, and raises even more questions.

It takes five times of draining the tub and filling it back up again for him to wash the last of the muck away, and all that does is reveal the litany of scars he’s gotten over his life. Most of the scars are from before he was twelve; horrible, jagged things that crisscross along his torso, back and front. He doesn’t feel clean, no. He’s not sure he _can_ feel clean.

Standing long enough to grab the shampoo and conditioner from the overhead shelf, he pops open the bottle of shampoo and breathes in the scent of sandalwood. Some primal, carnal part of his mind, usually free of such desires, tells him it smells _just like Sam._

He’s snapped from his reverie by a knock at the door, and he raises his hand up to use his powers to keep the door from opening before he remembers it’s already locked. And that his powers have completely vanished.

“Got some clean clothes, just outside the door,” he hears Sam say awkwardly. “Don’t think they’ll fit you right, but it’s too late to put in an order tonight. I’ll do it in the morning.”

When Higgs eventually leaves the bathroom, he’s dressed in surprisingly comfortable pajamas, and is more surprised to see Sam fast asleep on the couch. There’s an alarming amount of trust, in that. Though, maybe not so much, given that were Sam killed, he would just come back, and likely be pissed off at Higgs. So instead of starting shit, he crawls back into the bed, with sheets that are clean and warm, and it occurs to him as he drifts off that he doesn’t remember the last time he was treated so kindly.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam is surprised to see Higgs still in the shelter come morning. He’s fast asleep, flat on his stomach and stretched out like a lazy cat next to a radiator. Sleep seems to have robbed him of the tension he carries while awake. Slack and relaxed, he looks remarkably young. And he’s shaved, too. The only thing that sets him apart from any other man are the angry tattoos on his face. Without the strange Egyptian eye makeup, there’s nothing to distract away from the prominent dark circles under his eyes, and the ghostly pale skin of his face.

He lets Higgs sleep in favor of putting in a few orders and answering messages from people far across the Chiral. It seems like the question he gets the most is how he almost single-handedly brought the network online. Sam is never sure what to say, and always certain he leaves people feeling disappointed. He’s no hero; he’s just a man who fumbled his way into being the “bridge to the future”.

When Higgs finally stirs, it’s well past noon. He mumbles something incoherent into his pillow before sitting up, this time not visibly panicking as he gazes around the shelter.

“I keep expectin’ to wake up.”

Sam glances at him. “You look awake to me.” He knows what Higgs means, but like hell if he’s going to play along.

“Not what I meant,” Higgs says sullenly. He gets up out of the bed, still in the pajamas Sam loaned him last night. He steps over to the computer monitors, using the mouse to shake them awake. There’s a long, long moment where he stares at the welcome screen, with the date displayed in large numbers.

Sam hadn’t been lying about the amount of time that’s passed.

“I think I preferred the Beach,” Higgs murmurs. “So that’s it, you’re going to live forever, huh.”

“Time doesn’t stop on the Beach, it speeds up,” Sam says slowly. “It’s been a lot longer for you than it’s been for me.”

Higgs curses loudly and stomps his way to the bathroom. Sam can hear the shower turn on, and when he doesn’t hear Higgs collapse into the tub, chalks it up to a win. He still can’t talk to people, but neither can Higgs. It probably could have gone worse, and Higgs still hasn’t tried to warp his way out of the shelter. Once Sam is convinced Higgs isn’t going anywhere, he starts flipping through the different channels on the Chiral; on the cameras outside the perimeter, on the weather patterns. There’s a storm coming, a big one.

It’s been a long time since he’s seen one this massive, and he can’t even blame it on Higgs, as powerless as he is right now.

And he sure as hell can’t blame Amelie. At least, he hopes he can’t. He wants to believe that she had been telling the truth about not wanting to enact the Final Stranding, but she’d told the exact opposite to Higgs. They’d both been manipulated by something more powerful than the two of them put together.

But it doesn’t change the fact that something is coming; it reminds him of the storms Higgs had summoned. “Motherfucker,” Sam groans, combing his fingers through his hair. He hasn’t fought BTs in a long time, and he certainly hasn’t gone out in the middle of a storm in years. But now, here he is. 

Twelve minutes later, he has all the weapons and equipment he needs, in the case it’s a catcher or bigger. The storm is coming much too close to the village for it to be safe, and there are plenty of people who have no real knowledge of the BTs for them to know that they won’t be safe, even underground. 

For a moment, he considers saying something to Higgs, but he’s not about to ask a man who was an enemy, who is still a threat, to help him face down a BT. 

As soon as he steps out into the snow, the otter hood squeaks its way onto his head. It feels strange, having his backpack on once again, filled with weapons as he prepared to go out into the unknown. It’s almost nostalgic, and for a moment, his mind wanders as he reaches for his midsection, where a BB pod once sat a lifetime ago. It still hasn’t sunk it. He doesn’t think it’ll ever sink in. A man isn’t supposed to outlive his child.

He’s walked for maybe ten minutes before he hears a noise behind him, a sharp cough, and twists around to see Higgs, dressed in some of the clothes Sam had ordered for him, and a black winter coat. There’s a trail of footprints behind him, leading back to the shelter. He didn’t warp here; he’d clearly been following Sam for some time before making his presence known. Creep. “Off adventuring without me?” he says lowly. His face is nearly as pale as the snow. He’d look more threatening if he had any color to his cheeks at all.

Without responding, Sam shoves a handgun still in its casing at Higgs.

“What’s going to stop me from shooting you instead?” Higgs purrs at him.

“You can still sense them, can’t you?” Sam says instead of answering. “If you’re gonna tag along, be useful.”

Higgs’ lip curls up into a sneer. “Why are you playing hero for these people? None of them had even been born when you set off on your quest to make America ‘whole’ again.”

Sam ignores him, continuing on the trek through knee-deep snow, and tries to ignore the sound of Higgs’ boots behind him. Bastard is still following him, and Sam doesn’t think it could be for any good reason. He gets his powers from death, Sam reminds himself. Bringing Higgs back from the Beach was a bad idea, and if he got even a fraction of the power he had under Amelie back, he could destroy the entire settlement with ease.

But Higgs doesn’t shoot him, just stalks behind him like a looming, ominous shadow. 

He can feel the way the air pressure drops, as soon as they step into BT territory. The greyish bodies come into view, flickering in and out of Sam’s sight. It’s enough he thinks he can sneak by, with a few lucky breaks, and gratuitous need to hold his breath. He turns to Higgs, who is already crouching, gazing around in a way that makes it clear he knows they’re around, but not their exact locations.

Even now, Sam doesn’t think he’d actually be capable of avoiding them entirely. But if they stay out of sight of the gazers, they’ll be in good shape. He motions to Higgs to follow him, who does so without a word.

The clearing they come to isn’t unexpected, but the sudden, anxious growling is, and he is barely able to suppress the yelp of alarm as tar fills the ground, moaning catchers reaching up to grab at him as Sam struggles to stand. Four gunshots in a row remind him he’s not the only one in the area, and he turns to see Higgs struggling through the muck, glowering, fighting against hands reaching up for him from the dark. His face is pale, and he’s sweating from underneath his hood, and it’s exactly that moment Sam remembers Higgs is in no condition to be walking anywhere. 

When Higgs topples over, he falls on his back, and Sam watches with alarm as the catchers drag him away faster than Sam can even react.

Sam rushes after him, heedless of his own safety. 

The behemoth that emerges from the tar shouldn’t take him by surprise, given everything that’s gone wrong, but it does. An enormous, menacing, rotting whale rises to the sky as ancient cars and skyscrapers bulge to the surface. He spots Higgs on one, unmoving, yards away, and makes his way over to the other man, sludge and dirt covering every inch of his body in the process. A brief check assures him that Higgs is unconscious, not dead. 

The behemoth is not so interested in the safety of its prey, and if it recognizes Higgs at all, it doesn’t seem to care. 

Sam can feel his heart hammering in his throat as he raises the grenade launcher from its place at his side. Fuck, fuck. Did he remember to bring enough blood bags to deal with this fucking thing? He hadn’t been expecting a behemoth, hasn’t seen one of them since a whole pack of them suddenly attacked Port Knot forty years ago.

The whale opens its unearthly jaw with a roar, chiral beam aimed straight at him, and he’s barely able to drag Higgs out of the way before the whole top half of the building they’re on falls back into the tar. 

They’re not safe, and the monster isn’t going down without a fight. With some trouble, Sam gets Higgs onto his back, firing nearly blind at the whale as it dives into the tar. The only indication of where it is are the tremors beneath Sam’s feet, and he only has a few moments to level several more grenades at the beast before he’s running, jumping onto the path of cars and debris that’s formed as he makes his way to higher ground, resting Higgs against what might have been an exit to the roof at one point.

The beast is angered, now, Sam knows. It rams itself into the building he’d just jumped from, and Sam watches at it topples back into the tar, crumbling into dust. Four, five more shots at it, and there’s a soft beep letting him know he’s used up a blood pack. 

Six, seven.

It bashes itself closer to where Higgs is than Sam expects, knocking both of them over. 

The behemoth lets out another one of its unearthly noises, great maw opening to shoot chiral energy at both of them. Sam can feel the heat coming off of it, can smell the death and decay, and he clenches his hands onto his weapon.

He fires the remaining grenades as fast as he can, all into the BT’s waiting mouth. It howls in pain, head twisting upward as chrial energy scorches through the sky, burning a hole straight through the storm clouds as the behemoth twists and collapses into golden crystals that jut out from the landscape as the tar and ancient city sink back into the earth.

The storm stops as suddenly as it started, the ground wet and cold, and the area once again silent as Sam collapses to his knees, still clutching the now rusted weapon in both hands. Higgs hasn’t moved, still unconscious. He must be incredibly weak, still, to not notice until too late that catchers had grabbed hold of him. Even a person without DOOMS at all would have been able to spot them.

**

As soon as they’re in the shelter, Sam fabricates a number of thermal pads. It’s going to be awkward, trying to heat Higgs up, but he intends to respect Higgs as much as he can. Not touching him when he can avoid it, certainly not touching bare skin, but he still needs to pull some of these off him. His thick winter coat, his gloves. Boots, socks. He’s so cold, and Sam doesn’t know what to do. His clothes are wet, but he’s certain Higgs would panic if he woke up completely naked inside of Sam Fucking Bridges’ house.

What the hell should he do?

He’s a goddamn porter, for Chrissake, not a nurse.

He reaches out to the doctors in the area, and when one responds, she chastises him for using thermal pads, and orders Sam to get his “companion” dry and warm as soon as possible. Sam mutters unheard apologies to Higgs as he pulls the man’s wet clothes off in favor of dry clothes and layers of blankets.

Maybe he should have warned Higgs about his home being near Mountain Knot, but he hadn’t expected to be chased after by a man who spent a significant amount of time trying to kill him.

Sam doesn’t want to dwell on the fact that he’d risked a voidout to make sure Higgs was okay. He hadn’t even thought about it, he’d just… done it. 

Higgs certainly isn’t a friend, but that last, lingering connection must mean more to Sam than he wants to admit to himself. 

When Higgs finally stirs awake, Sam presses a mug to his lips. He coughs, growls, “What are you giving me?” But with his arms wrapped up in the blankets, he can’t shove Sam out of the way. He takes a long drink before the mug is pulled back.

“Hot chocolate,” Sam says with a shrug. When he brings the drink back to Higgs’ lips, he doesn’t get any protest.


	6. Chapter 6

Higgs wakes that evening feeling feverish and sore.

If anyone has ever said that being a repatriate takes away the anxiety and terror that comes from near-death experiences, they don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. He’s wrapped in so many blankets, it makes him think of the Ancient Egyptian mummies, and isn’t that just a laugh?

He hates how his body argues with his mind, how it feels relief as it floods him with the knowledge that he’s in pain and weak, but still very much alive. Repatriation is a bitch when all you really want is to shuffle off this mortal coil for good. But what the hell can you do when purgatory itself doesn’t want you?

He has even less strength than he’d had the previous night, and wrapped up in blankets as he is, he can’t move much at all.

As he gazes about the shelter, he takes everything in. He’s a little more lucid than he was yesterday, as funny as that is to admit to himself. Can’t move a muscle, but his mind isn’t as muddled by eons left with only his own thoughts. 

There’s no evidence at all that Sam has shared this space with anyone else for a long time, if ever. There are photographs of Sam with various people; some of the pictures appear to be quite old, others more recent. But no sign that he’s had company in the shelter. Just a shitload of pictures. One thing is for sure, though, in all of them Sam looks to be the exact same age, even as the people in the photographs don’t. He thinks he might see Fragile in a few of them, looking much older than he remembers her. Not that he wants to think about that now, or ever.

In a number of them is a woman with brown eyes and upturned lips. Higgs doesn’t recognize her at all, but Sam has an arm slung around her, and a brilliant smile in every single picture. He’s never seen Sam smile—not that he would, two diametrically opposed forces were never going to bring out the good in each other— but it does bring to light a new side of the legendary porter.

It also means, Higgs has to admit to himself, that Sam was being truthful about his apparent recovery from his affliction. He sure as fuck doesn’t know how, though. Therapy? That’s a laugh.

“Who’s that woman?” he asks before he can stop himself, staring at what looks to be the most recent picture. Her face is old and wrinkled, and there’s something deeply sad in both their eyes. Sam doesn’t answer, instead he stands up from the computer setup and proceeds to pick up all of the pictures around the shelter with her in them, before bringing them to his desk.

Note to self, don’t ask Sam any more questions about pictures of him with complete strangers. 

For a while, he thinks maybe Sam isn’t going to say anything to him at all, after the near-fatal incident in the afternoon with the catchers. Higgs still doesn’t know how he’d caught the attention of a gazer, but then, it’s hard to know what you’ve done wrong when you can’t see the fuckers. Knowing they’re around isn’t enough, when you’re used to being able to control them with no issue.

“You need more fluids,” Sam says eventually, bringing the damn mug out again. How many hours has it been since he last woke up, anyway? “Doc said it should be sweetened. Somethin’ about metabolism, I dunno.”

With some help, Higgs is able to sit up, saving him from the indignity of needing to be fed again. His hands are a little unsteady around the mug, but he masks it as well as he can, not looking at Sam. He doesn’t like the idea of being in another person’s debt, not when the debt seems to keep growing. Would Sam be the sort of person to demand it repaid?

There’s plenty Higgs doesn’t know about the man, while Sam knows more about Higgs than anyone else, if he read the journals.

He doesn’t want to ask if he has.

Those had never been meant for anyone but himself, his private thoughts, the baring of the soul of someone who preferred people know as little about him as possible. And then the Extinction Entity had wormed Herself into his heart and mind, encouraging his obsession with the man, manic and frantic. She’d even allowed him Her quipu, so he could find Sam whenever he wished. 

It was that he mourned even more than the BB doll. That connection with Sam, that nagging, itching sensation he can feel even now. He hasn’t felt anything like it before. Her connection had been thrumming with power so endless it made him dizzy, power so strong he had begun to forget where Higgs Monaghan ended and She began. He’d been Her loyal servant, destroying entire cities at Her beck and call. Basked in the power She’d granted him with the voidouts; destroyed the only close relationship he’d ever had because She willed it.

He’d do it all again for Her, in a heartbeat.

And then She’d abandoned him, cut Her herald off at the root so deeply death had been his only option. Alone, alone, alone, alone. Death hadn’t worked, either. Death Herself didn’t want him. She had shown him the bleak, inescapable future, had called to him because of his powers of death, and then discarded him upon deciding Her love for Sam was more important.

There’s a _crack_ , a sound sharp enough to bring him back to his senses, and then a wet sensation on his hands. He looks down, at the mess of broken ceramic, at the dark liquid staining the blankets, at the scarlet blood dripping from his hands.

He doesn’t know why, but he laughs. He laughs, and then Sam rushes towards him with a _”Jesus Christ!”_ There’s a medkit and bandages, and then Sam helps him into bed.

Like they’re friends. Like Higgs hadn’t killed Sam before, hadn’t sent monstrous BTs after him at Her will.

It’s too much, it’s too fucking much, and all he can think as blackness takes him is please, please let this all be a fucking terrible dream.


	7. Chapter 7

It’s a month before Higgs appears to fully recover. There’s color in his cheeks, and his ice-blue eyes are more alert. They don’t talk about the incident after Higgs regained consciousness at all, though it has left Sam wondering if Higgs had any power return to him from the behemoth’s attack. If he has, he hasn’t ever mentioned it. 

He hasn’t shown any interest in leaving the shelter, but then again, Sam hasn’t left either. A second mattress in the shelter has left it feeling both oddly cramped and cozy. He hadn’t felt the loneliness when Lou was alive; his connection to her had been there no matter how far apart they were. But this, somehow, despite sharing a space with a man he’s still not certain he can completely trust, feels almost right. He just wishes the herald of the apocalypse wasn’t the one to put him at ease.

At least the mattress is being used; a few days after the incident, Higgs had started refusing to use the bed, and refusing to say why, exactly, he wanted nothing to do with it. The mattress had been a compromise, because the way Higgs had been going on about it, it seemed he preferred the floor without any pillows or blankets at all to the couch.

The only thing that remotely resembled a bed in Higgs’ home at all had been an uncomfortable looking cot that resembled a gurney more than a bed. At the time, Sam had been more alarmed by the sheer depth of Higgs’ obsession with him to take into consideration that the shelter could barely be considered a home. No kitchen space at all, and the only food he had was endless boxes of pizza, not all of which Sam could have delivered himself. It barely looked lived-in, and had the distinct atmosphere of being abandoned; that Higgs knew he was never coming back to it.

How he’d anticipated his fate is something Sam doesn’t want to think about.

Higgs still hasn’t spoken much, nothing like the grandiose speeches of the futility of life he’d given while in the grips of madness at the hands of the Extinction Entity. He also hasn’t shown any hostility at all towards Sam, which is something.

He’s even starting to look more human. The bizarre mathematical tattoos on his forehead have started to disappear with the growth of his eyebrow hair. His upkeep of his beard makes it look all the more intentional, even if maybe it’s not.

When Sam walks back inside the shelter after picking up a week’s worth of groceries from one of the Mountain Knot porters, Higgs is busily reading a pre-Stranding book. Sam can see the words _Brave New World_ on the spine, which doesn’t mean anything to him. He was never much of a reader, and can’t even guess what it might be about, but Higgs looks absolutely engrossed. He doesn’t even look up when Sam puts the groceries away in the cabinets and tiny refrigerator. “You want a beer?” he asks eventually, when it’s obvious he’s being ignored by the man who used to deliberately seek out his attention.

Higgs looks up from the book at that, expression puzzled, like he’s trying to figure out Sam’s intentions. “I’ll take one,” he says carefully, like he thinks it’s a trap. Sam can’t help the smirk at Higgs’ surprise when he hands the guy a Timefall Porter. 

Sam sits down on the couch heavily, his own beer in his hands. “What’s that book about?” he asks, to make conversation.

“In the far future, the world has created a caste system based on intelligence and labor. People are kept oh-so happy with a drug they consume constantly, and nonconformists are exiled. The lead character is a man who can only relate to the world via Shakespeare, as that was how he learned to read and write, and is considered a freak as a result.”

“Jesus, do you read any happy stories?” 

Higgs’ smile is thin and wry. 

“Right,” Sam says with a sigh, leaning into the couch. He’s not sure what to say, so he defaults to silence. It’s a comfortable silence, at least to him. If Higgs enjoys it too, he’s not certain, and doesn’t want to ask and ruin the moment.

Eventually, Higgs sets the book aside without finishing it. He’s such a fast reader, he could have. Sam glances at him curiously. He’s twisting his hands anxiously, like maybe he has something on his mind, but isn’t certain how to broach the subject. Sam ventures a guess so Higgs doesn’t have to speak. “A while back… when we were ambushed by those BTs, after you woke up, did you notice anything? Had your DOOMS returned?”

Higgs glances at him before shaking his head, staring at his hands. “No,” he says. “I suppose I could wander into BT territory. If I were able to take out enough of them at once, my DOOMS could very well return; it’s not reliable. But obviously, that’s not an option in my current state. The easiest way to recharge would be a voidout, but that’s not an option either, is it?”

“No,” Sam agrees.

“There you have it,” Higgs says, his tone matter-of-fact. “And so, I am DOOMS-less, at least for the time being. I am, in effect, no different from a prepper scurrying about in the dark. My connection to the other side is much too faded.”

Sam wonders if maybe Higgs isn’t so comfortable with silence after all. His overly verbose manner of speaking seems designed to fill as much space as possible, like he’s afraid maybe he’d lose the attention of his audience if he falls quiet.

“I think I would like to go with you, if you must insist on adventuring again in the future.”

“Hm?” he isn’t sure what Higgs is talking about.

“I want to follow you, if you head back into BT territory.”

Sam looks Higgs over. He’s healthier looking than he had been weeks ago, with a pinkish tinge to his skin and weeks of enough food in him to allow him to stand without swaying in place. “Sure,” he says. “The village could use another pair of eyes watching over it, and two repatriates are better than one.”

Higgs doesn’t smile, but the muscles of his face relax almost imperceptivity. 

They’re not silent for very long before Higgs makes it clear his desire for Sam’s attention isn’t going away, even when they’re the only two people in the house. “Sam,” he says. “Sam.”

“What, Higgs?”

“I’ve been wantin’ to know,” Higgs says, his voice almost, but not quite, conversational. “How did you and Fragile figure out the package for her was from me?”

Sam frowns, trying to remember. Maybe it feels more recent to Higgs, but to him, it’s ancient history. He’s also not sure what prompted the question. “I had a vision in my sleep,” he says. It occurs to him that napping when he’d had a nuke with him hadn’t been the best idea, but he hadn’t known at the time. He’d just been given a package by a strange Bridges officer; it’s not like Sam could ever criticize a person for being socially awkward. “I think you told me yourself.”

 _”What?”_ Higgs stares at him, anger mounting on his face. “Why the fuck do you think for a _moment_ that I would do something like that?” His ears are redder than his face. It’s actually a little funny.

Sam shrugs. “Well,” he says. “The countdown didn’t start until after the package was opened. And you know voidouts don’t kill me. You showed me it was you in the dream, it’s that simple. It felt almost exactly like the dreams that connect me to the Beach. In it, you revealed yourself to me. It wasn’t some feeling I got, it wasn’t a vision from Amelie. It was you.”

“Well, fuck,” Higgs grumbles. It’s clear he’s not sure what to with the information. “Didn’t intend to do that,” he says. “Didn’t know I _could_ do that.” He grips at his chest, like he’s trying to pull something from it. Sam pretends he doesn’t see it.

“What do you mean, you didn’t intend to?”

“Our connection,” Higgs says. He knows Higgs feels it too, but it’s the first time he’s heard the man bring it up. “I must have just… let it through, in my sleep.” He sounds dreamy, and Sam watches his hand clutch at his chest.

“Whose idea was the bomb, yours or hers?”

Higgs shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he says, and it doesn’t escape Sam’s attention that he sounds a little frightened. “I don’t know if there’s a difference.”

The Extinction Entity really had chosen her pawns well.


	8. Chapter 8

As it turns out, Higgs didn’t have to wait long to get his wish to accompany Sam on his patrol to keep BTs away from the village. Two weeks later, another storm has already moved in. If Sam were superstitious, he’d assume this is the universe’s way of punishing him for dragging Higgs out of purgatory.

Higgs is brimming with some sort of excitement, and Sam doesn’t want to focus on what’s gotten him so cheerful, because Sam is sure as fuck not letting a voidout happen, not so close to the village, not so close to Mountain Knot. Higgs has a vog mask on, obscuring his face nearly completely, but it seems to do wonders for him. He doesn’t look as tense as he does when he has no mask on at all, and it’s just his face; always too easy to read.

_Today's the last day anyone sees my face. I don't need it anymore._

It seems like wherever Sam went while bringing America together, he met people wearing masks, and the Chiral connecting everyone hasn’t changed things as much as people would like to think.

Sam wonders if Fragile had ever seen Higgs’ face before the day he caught her trying to escape with the nuke. The way she’d spoken about Higgs, they’d seemed close. Incredibly close. And then Higgs had betrayed her in one of the most horrifying ways possible. Were she here now, she’d be angry with Sam, but that itching strand had struggled and writhed, demanding Sam’s attention more than any other connection he’d ever had, save for one. The one that was so powerful, it had sucked him onto the Beach from the sky three separate times.

It would have been difficult to continue ignoring the compulsion to seek it out, the more strands from the old world he lost.

Staring out into the timefall storm forlornly, Sam suddenly wishes he’d brought more supplies, just in case. He glances at Higgs, who looks like he’s spotted something, but that can’t be possible, because he’s made it clear his DOOMS have almost completely faded. “Higgs?”

“By the prickling of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes,” Higgs murmurs instead of answering.

“What?”

“There’s something big out there, Sam, can’t you sense it?”

Sam tries to will himself to see, to sense anything at all, but he’s too far away from the storm to be able to see any BTs headed their way. He shakes his head. If there’s anything out there, he’s simply unable to sense it from here. 

Higgs scoffs. “What use is your DOOMS, when you can’t even tell that this thing is coming?”

“Well, what the fuck is it, if you know so much?” Sam growls, starting to get annoyed.

“Big,” Higgs says unhelpfully. 

“Fuck you.”

Higgs sighs dramatically, gesturing at the storm. “I don’t know what to tell you, Sammy. It’s enormous. I can feel its energy all the way from here. If that wonderous antimatter were to reach a Knot City—” he mimes an explosion with his hands, complete with his own sound effect. “I think the result would be even more tremendous than the one that took out Middle Knot.”

“So, we need to kill it before it gets a chance,” Sam says.

“’fraid so,” Higgs agrees, and Sam is going to ignore how disappointed he sounds before they get sidetracked again. 

“I thought you said your DOOMS faded.”

“They have,” Higgs says with a nod. “To be able to sense it from all the way here, away from the storm… whatever’s inside of it must be unimaginatively powerful.” 

“Comforting,” Sam grumbles. “It had better not be another pack of those fucking whales.”

Higgs’ eyes light up from behind the mask. “They come in _packs?_ ”

Sam ignores him, waving for Higgs to follow him into the sleet. He can hear their boots squelching in the snow. Higgs is still following him, one hand resting on the assault rifle at his side, the other on the utility pouch filled with packets of Sam’s blood. It’s surreal to see. 

The sleet turns into snow, heavy snow, and Sam slides the goggles onto his face.

“This is why I hate this fuckin’ place,” he hears Higgs mutter, but Higgs’ face is already covered, so he’s fine. He’s dressed warmly, packed full of weapons, and headed out into the goddamn unknown. 

When they enter the storm, heavy BT territory, Sam throws his hand up in the air, signaling for Higgs to stop. “You sense them?” he asks, just to be sure.

“Yes.”

“What about the big one?”

“It’s around here somewhere, Sammy. Reckon you’d spot it sooner than me.”

Sam shakes his head. “I don’t see anything but gazers. Is it a catcher?” Maybe it _is_ another behemoth. Fuck.

“It’s not a catcher,” Higgs replies, and Sam decides not to ask him how he knows for sure. 

They fall silent, moving far enough into BT territory talking is a bad idea. It’s slow-going, but Higgs is able to keep up this time, moving through the gazer’s line of sight with no issue, even without being able to see them. Before his DOOMS had increased, Sam couldn’t have been that accurate with his weaving about. He was only really able to tell where they were when the gazers were close enough to breathe down his neck.

Even faded, Higgs’ powers are seriously impressive. 

There’s a tremendous noise in the distance, one that absolutely didn’t come from one of the monstrous whales; Sam knows that call too well. He looks behind him at Higgs, who shakes his head at him. Great. So neither of them have any idea what the hell they’re dealing with.

There’s something really wrong, here. Sam watches as the gazers start clustering together, slowly drifting, leaving empty patches in their wake. Sam hasn’t seen anything like it before, and the way Higgs slowly approaches him, wary and his gun already drawn, makes it clear this is new territory for him, too. The gazers form a circle, enveloping the pair, like they’re waiting. Watching.

It happens in an instant, the tar filling the ground beneath them, like a massive arena, with the gazers the spectators, floating passively around them. There’s that noise again, a piercing roar that makes the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck stand on end. The ancient city emerges from the tar, and he and Higgs immediately make their way to higher ground, and there’s _still_ no sign of the catcher.

The building trembles unsteadily, bobbing in the tar, and Sam really, _really_ wants it to not be a fucking whale again.

Higgs is staring at the tar, like he’s spotted something, but there isn’t anything there. He stoops over the edge, much closer than Sam would get, in case there’s something ready to lunge at him from beneath the blackness. “Shit.”

“Higgs?”

But Higgs doesn’t look like he’s listening, he’s turning, running, grabbing at Sam’s shoulder. “Run, run! We need to move!”

“Higgs, what—” 

No sooner have they leapt onto a rusted-out car does Sam see what Higgs had sensed. An inky black mass bursts through the center of the building they’d just been standing on, making a noise like a buzzsaw. 

It’s a shark. Sam thinks. 

It looks a little like a shark, if five times the size, triangular maw open so wide Sam can almost make out the antimatter core inside of it. But it has legs, too many legs, and scuttles about on them unsteadily, clearly not meant for land. It would be comical if it wasn’t fucking terrifying. Higgs shoots at it until his gun clicks empty, and then he throws the weapon at it as the shark disappears back into the tar.

“C’mon, we need to keep moving,” Higgs says, pulling his second weapon out as Sam pulls out his grenade launcher.

Might as well use the big guns first.

The platform they find themselves on next is even more precarious. It’s slanted at a sharp angle, slowly sinking into the tar, but it’ll have to make do. The shark re-emerges, bursting through the tar with enough force to send the rusted car skyward before it falls back to the earth, shattering debris everywhere. The noise startles the shark, giving them enough time to get enough hits on it that the black of the BT is saturated with red.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Sam breathes, as Higgs helps him to higher ground once again. He can’t keep doing this. Fuck.

They’re so fucking outmatched. Where the hell did a fucking shark come from?

The monstrosity dives back into the tar, making the unearthly noises beneath the waves, and Sam feels so unsteady on his feet he can hardly stand. He was never a trained soldier, is certainly not one now, and he doesn’t think Higgs has anything but life experience of defending himself against MULEs. 

They dart from platform to platform, trying to whittle the BT’s strength down, all while avoiding an impressively pissed off monster.

They’re down to two platforms, now. There’s a rusted-out truck that looks like it couldn’t hold both of their weights, and the rapidly sinking skyscraper. Sam chooses the skyscraper, leaping to it, rolling onto the concrete before he’s able to stand again. He’s out of breath, achy, and doesn’t think he can do this for much longer.

Higgs jumps a moment later, grenade launcher thrown over his shoulder like he’s some pre-Stranding action star, ready to stare down the BT when it next surfaces.

It leaps at them, so close it could swallow both of them whole, and Higgs fires rapidly at it, splashing tar and more tar, and then his hands are suddenly made of mist as he stabs the BT straight in the mask with a hooked knife. Once, twice, three times. The shark roars in pain, writhes as it rapidly turns into chiral crystals, exploding upward into the sky. Higgs’ eyes fall shut, head tipped upward as the ruined city vanishes back into the snow beneath their feet.

“What the fuck was that?” Sam wheezes. He just needs to sit down for a moment. The jumpsuit means he’s not going to get cold, not right away. 

Higgs is silent for a long moment, and Sam wonders for the second time if he’s had any power return to him. “Ambush predator,” Higgs says eventually. “As you know, usually, catchers have their prey dragged to them. Not so, with that one. It lies in wait. I’m partial to calling it an ‘attacker’; gets straight to the point.”

“Fucking Christ,” Sam curses again. “If you knew what it was, why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“I didn’t know for sure. I just knew it was enormous, too big to be your average catcher.”

“I’ve never even fucking _heard_ of one.”

“We might be the first people who have killed one, let alone lived the tell others of its existence. I knew about them, because of Her connection to the Beach, but I’d never seen one before.”

“Christ, how the hell would a Knot City even defend itself against one of them?”

“I don’t know. I never even attempted to control one,” Higgs says soberly. “Good way to get eaten.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t send one after me anyway,” Sam mutters.

“The odds would be stacked in favor of the attacker. There’s no sport in that.”

Once again, Sam finds himself at a loss for words. The idea that killing him hadn’t been Higgs’ intention with the summoned BTs is a little hard to believe.


	9. Chapter 9

The return trek home was extremely unpleasant.

Higgs doesn’t understand why Sam didn’t want to warp back to the shelter, why he insisted on walking all the way back when they were both exhausted and wobbly, and the adrenaline crash from their encounter with the attacker meant they were even more fatigued than they’d usually be.

But they’re home now, and that means that Higgs has once again commandeered the bathroom in favor of soaking in the tub.

He’s grateful he remembered the mask, this time around. His face is streaked with black tears, and he’s so exhausted he wouldn’t do a good job of putting on any other masks, this time the metaphorical kind.

That doesn’t matter right now, though. He’s warm in the tub, he can feel his aching joints coming back to life. God, he doesn’t know what’s expected of him, now. It had been so much easier, so much nicer, when he thought he was the one in control, when he was Her herald. When he’d been running on empty the entire time. That compulsion to destroy, to preach Her glory, to harm Sam… he doesn’t know how much of that had been his own, true thoughts. It seems like everything he’d done, every impatient thought he’d had, had been Her will overriding his own.

He certainly doesn’t want to harm Sam _now_ , but he also doesn’t feel like he’s much of anything, either. 

What is he doing here, wasting away? He doesn’t think he’s capable of having a normal life.

A damn fool who’d been manipulated by an abomination showing him what he’d wanted all along. Oh, Her love had been terrible, granting him power and control, people to lead. He felt like he was doing something. Annihilating entire cities; killing people so quickly they didn’t even have time to feel pain. Leading a violent revolution. Bloodbaths for the angel of death.

And the whole time, all She could think of was Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam. Higgs had thought maybe She didn’t want to bring about the end, that maybe Her connection to Sam made Her hesitate. He knows better, now. 

She’d been playing Higgs, knowing him better than he knew himself. He was Her puppet; every time Her thoughts turned to Sam, Higgs redoubled his efforts to please his goddess. He’d done it over and over again, falling further away from himself every time.

She’s so much like Daddy, it sickens him. He doesn’t know why he didn’t see it sooner.

Amelie never struck him, no. She’d made him entirely dependent on Her. She allowed him to drop his mask, promised to complete him. He’d do anything, everything, to keep that love. She’d encouraged that love, praised him, kept him wanting more. And then he’d been abandoned, discarded.

He doesn’t want DOOMS, doesn’t want these damn powers to come back to him. It would probably take a voidout on a cataclysmic scale, worse than the one that took out Middle Knot, to give him the power he’d had under Amelie. 

But what would that do? Drive Sam away, probably.

Sam. Sam Porter Bridges.

He doesn’t even know why the hell he saved Sam. Sam didn’t even need saving; he’d come back. The village probably wouldn’t survive, but to be honest Higgs doesn’t care about that. It had been _Sam_ he’d worried about in the moment, _Sam_ who could have been swallowed whole by the BT. He’d just done it, without thinking.

How absolutely stupid of him.

“Hey, Higgs,” Sam calls from outside the bathroom. “Wouldja quit moping in there? I found somethin’ on the Chiral I want to show you.”

Higgs leaves the bathroom a few minutes later, dressed in warm clothes and face free of black tears. “Hell’s so important you felt the need to interrupt my bath, Bridges?” he growls, but there’s no real heat to it.

Sam taps at the monitor, which is displaying some app Higgs has never seen before.

It’s a listing, a listing of items up for trade. 50 pre-Stranding books, all in fairly decent condition considering they’re very nearly two centuries old. “Guy’s a prepper out near Lake Knot, what do you think?”

“What do I think?” Higgs echoes. “I don’t understand what you’re showing me.”

“He’s offerin’ all those books. I was thinking of putting in a trade. Ain’t like there’s money; I was thinking of offering him a shitload of blueberries, maybe some strawberries, too. I’d have to check what else we’ve got fresh.”

This is such absolute insanity that Higgs laughs outright. “Did the attacker fry your brain? You live on a fuckin’ snowy mountain, where are you gonna get blueberries?”

“Do you want the books or not?” Sam says, with more patience than he should. He doesn’t look the least bit surprised by Higgs’ suspicion.

“Fine,” Higgs sighs. “Yes, I’d like them. I still think you’re full of shit.”

**

Two days later, when two large containers filled with books arrive at the shelter, Higgs has to admit he was wrong. The first one he pulls out has the words _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ emblazoned on it with faded letters, and he glances up at Sam before muttering a thank you under his breath.

He’s not sure if he heard, or just imagined, the “you’re welcome” said to him in return, but when he sits on the couch to read, Sam joins him.


	10. Chapter 10

One evening, there’s a knock on the door of what Higgs had assumed was a spare closet. They’d know if someone was hiding inside, right? The perimeter alarm would give away anyone who tried to come too close to it, and how the hell would the person be able to sneak inside, when they haven’t left the shelter in a week? He’s about to open his mouth to say something to Sam, but Sam strides over to the door and opens it. Standing in the doorway is a withered old woman with bright white hair and a cheerful smile, holding a bundle of somethings in her arms.

“Hi, Mary, didn’t expect to see you this evening.”

“I’ve made something for you, and your companion. You said he was a porter too, in your mail. Was that right? I thought he might appreciate it the next time he has to go above ground. I suppose I could have had a porter deliver it to you two, but it felt very silly, considering I’m down the hall from you. Ah, well, that will be all. I hope you’ll be there for little Abby’s birthday party this weekend.”

The conversation strikes Higgs as so strange, he peeks behind Sam in time to see a brilliantly lit hallway, concrete and drab, but clearly lived in. He continues to stare as Sam and Mary say their goodbyes, finally standing and watches as Mary hobbles slowly to a door with a floral print welcome mat in front of it. She waves to Sam, and Higgs is too stunned to do anything but gape.

“What the fuck?”

Sam shrugs. “I told you, this is a prepper village.” He says this like it’s supposed to make sense, like all preppers are connected by an underground fucking rabbit warren of hallways, when they are most certainly not. He shuts the door, which Higgs notes doesn’t have a lock on it, and shoves one of the little bundles into Higgs’ arms.

Sam is already examining his before Higgs can process what just happened— a knitted sweater with a fairly complex design stitched into it. Sam wastes no time trying it on, making a pleased little noise. “She’s always so thoughtful,” he says to himself.

Higgs looks down at his own bundle, and is surprised when it’s a sweater of his own. The last time he’d been given anything were the objects She had given him as herald. This… this is something else completely. Something new. 

It’s soft and warm, and he weighs it in his hands curiously. “Why did she make one for me?”

Sam gives him a long look. “You live here, too,” he says.

Higgs stares at him, not sure what to say. He’s not used to this, any of this. He’d put up walls to make sure nobody could get in, layers of masks so nobody could see a face that always gives away too much. He’d wanted community a long time ago, to be with people. But it hadn’t worked out, hadn’t gotten him anything. His place is with the dead, has always been with the dead.

The living don’t need him; he doesn’t need the living.

“I don’t…” he swallows hard. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re part of the community,” Sam says carefully. “Just ‘cause the village is underground doesn’t mean it’s isolated.”

“Community,” Higgs repeats. The man who wanted to do good, who wanted to bridge the gaps between preppers, he’d wanted community, too. Higgs isn’t sure he’s cut out for this; he’s not that well-meaning, optimistic man anymore. He’s a murderer, a terrorist, a traitor to humanity itself because he’d found someone to fill that emptiness inside of him. “But we’ve… we’ve been here for ages, and I’ve never seen anyone else until now.”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “I’ve been askin’ people to be patient with you. They don’t know your history or anything, but they know about you. They’ve known about you since the day after you arrived.”

“Why not the day I arrived?”

“I was too busy looking after you to send mail to folks.” Sam doesn’t sound bothered, but Higgs feels guilty anyway. He wants to hide away, to figure out just what the hell he should make of this situation. With his own thoughts, he’d be able to figure out what this all means. Without Sam staring at him, judging him, thinking who-knows-what about Higgs Monaghan.

“You were pretty damn sick,” Sam adds after Higgs doesn’t say anything.

“I remember.”

“How has your recovery been going? It hasn’t exactly been snag-free.”

‘How has your recovery been going’, not ‘have you recovered’, like maybe Sam has realized this isn’t something you can recover _from._ It’s just something you hope, maybe pray, doesn’t kill you. Or, leave you worse than dead, in the case of a repatriate. Higgs sits down heavily on the couch, and stares at the sweater, at how much time clearly went into it, at the beautiful, complex pattern knitted into the front. “I don’t know,” Higgs says honestly. 

Sam sits down next to him, his gaze completely focused on Higgs. “You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Sam doesn’t look surprised at the refusal. He just nods, giving Higgs a look he isn’t sure he can read. It’s not impassive, it’s just… strange. Hard to place. His brows are knitted together, like he’s frowning, but he doesn’t look angry. “If you change your mind…” he trails off, getting up from the couch to go check on the Chiral monitors. 

Higgs watches him for a long while, confused.

What the hell is going on with Sam Bridges?


	11. Chapter 11

When Higgs wakes a few days later, Sam is nowhere to be seen. There’s a note on the kitchen table informing Higgs he’s gone off to run some deliveries somewhere. A pity. The man claims to be retired, and yet here he is, still solving people’s problems for them a hundred years after he’d started on his fool’s errand. Unable to Jump, there’s no real way Higgs can attempt to track Sam down. Even the aching in his chest doesn’t point him in the right direction, it’s just there. Itching away at his heart, making him feel uncomfortable and moody.

He stalks about the shelter. It’s not like there’s much to do here. Oh, sure, virtually every film ever made is available on the Chiral, every television show. There’s so much information available, a person could go mad just trying to sort through it.

It’s a good thing Higgs is already insane, isn’t it?

But he’s not interested in that now, anyway, and he’s too irritable to find reading fulfilling.

He sits at the computer setup, flicking through the monitors and security camera feeds. It’s strange, seeing so many entrances to prepper homes clustered together, but he supposes it does make some amount of sense. Not everyone is cut out for city life, and pre-Stranding, there had been towns. He digs through the desk drawers just for something to do. There are a lot of thank you letters, some of them quite old. It’s old-fashioned, even more so now, but Sam’s clearly kept all of them. Dozens of keychains, and many other items that are clearly handmade, not manufactured with a Chiral printer.

It’s towards the bottom of one of the drawers that something catches Higgs’ eyes: a yellowed paper. He picks it up, surprised at the thickness of the paper, though he’s not surprised that Sam’s kept it.

It’s an obituary. An obituary for the woman who’d been in so, so many pictures with Sam.

_Louise Bridges-Gibson.  
Daughter, mother, grandmother.  
She spent her entire life saving us._

Her date of birth is listed as two months after his final confrontation with Sam, her death nearly eleven years ago. Higgs feels like someone just threw a bucket of ice water on him. He’s such a tremendous asshole, snooping on something so private. He replaces the obituary as gently as he can and shuts the drawer. 

Not wanting to be in the shelter now, he leaves through the hallway door, taking in the bizarre sight that is a post-Stranding village. It looks a bit like a maze. The hallways might not be very long, but there’s a lot of them. Walking through it gives him the impression that at least twenty people live in this complex. Nowhere near the population of a Knot City, but a respectable size for folks who want to live outside of one.

He comes to a dead end, to an open doorway where he can see greenery inside the room. He steps inside and marvels at what he’s seeing. Plants, plants everywhere. The room is smaller than a shelter, but its space has been expertly optimized. There are strawberries and tomatoes, potatoes and carrots, all safely under a warm UV light. There’s at least a dozen varieties of fruits and vegetables, all looking well cared for.

Now he knows where Sam gets his miraculously fresh fruit.

There are footsteps behind him, and he starts, whirling around to see Mary right behind him.

“Hello there, dear. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she says gently. Higgs watches her hobble over to the tomato plants with her cane, unsure of what to say. “You’re Sam’s friend, aren’t you? You’re the first new face I’ve seen in a long time.” She smiles. It’s kindly and alien.

“Uh, yes,” Higgs says, not sure what to do with being called Sam’s friend.

“What’s your name?”

“It’s Higgs, ma’am. Higgs Monaghan.”

There’s no recognition in her eyes at the name, no fear or anger. Higgs is a fucking terrorist, for God’s sake, how is he a complete unknown to these people? There’s no way they haven’t heard his name, no way they haven’t come to hate it, like the pre-Stranding evils of the world. Gone, but never, ever, forgotten.

But she continues to look up at him like a kindly old woman who is just being neighborly to a newcomer.

“Well, Higgs, I’m glad you’ve decided to take a look around our little village. Sam’s mentioned how you like to keep to yourself; it’s nice to see you out and about.” She plucks a tomato from the vine, says her goodbye, and leaves for her shelter, leaving Higgs alone and utterly lost.

**

When Higgs returns to the shelter, Sam is already inside, listening to that irritating musician for what must be the one thousandth time. “You’re back,” Sam says without looking up. “Wondered when you’d check out the rest of the village. What’s eating you?” the last part is said when he looks up at Higgs, sees him not knowing what to do with his face.

“Why don’t they treat me like the monster I am? Why don’t they recognize me? They should fear me; they should hate me.”

“Why would they?”

“You’re telling me they wouldn’t make the connection with the name Higgs fucking Monaghan? Don’t patronize me, Sam. I know what I am; what I’ve done.”

“Nobody knows the name Monaghan but me,” Sam says patiently. “Higgs isn’t the most tasteful name to give a kid these days, but they’re not gonna judge. Mary’s the oldest one here, save for us, and she wasn’t born until Lou was a teenager.”

Higgs isn’t sure if he should be pretending not to know who Lou is, so he says nothing, working his jaw anxiously. 

“None of them were alive to know what you did, to have lived through it. They wouldn’t make the connection. Do you regret any of it?”

Higgs doesn’t know, so he doesn’t answer. It seems to be the wrong thing to do, though, because Sam lets out a long sigh, rubbing his face with his palms.

“They trust you because I’m the one who brought you here,” Sam says, as though this should be obvious. “You don’t get closure for the things you did a century ago. You can only start to make amends now. Do you even want to? Because it looks like you’re too busy fucking pitying yourself.” It’s been a long time since he’s heard Sam raise his voice, but he’s doing it now, looking pissed off, like he might try and take a swing at Higgs. It’s almost like old times, and it makes that feeling in his chest itch.

If the very earth could open up and swallow him whole, it would be a more merciful fate than this conversation. “I don’t know,” Higgs begins, his mouth feeling dry, “where to even start.” It’s like there’s a gaping hole in his body, where Amelie cut him loose. A wound he should not have survived.

“You can start by helping me do something nice for Abby’s birthday,” Sam says tiredly.

Higgs isn’t sure he’s heard Sam right. “What?”

“Show me you can act like a normal fucking person for one day. Prove to me you can be around people and not harm them, get through an entire day without frightening a seven-year-old, and maybe I’ll start to believe you really want to change.”

What choice does he have? The idea of losing Sam, losing that connection, fills him with a terror he’s only felt once before, after She’d cut him off so readily, so callously. When he’d realized he was completely alone. Alone, alone, alone. On that dying Beach. Death had never come for him, and all his strands were out of reach.

Alone, alone, alone. He can’t do that again; he thinks the grief would destroy him.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

If Sam doubts him, he doesn’t show it. His face is stony and serious, like it was in the beginning. Impossible to read.


	12. Chapter 12

Sam is, in all honesty, surprised to see Higgs, on the day of the birthday party, actually looking somewhat presentable. He’s in the sweater Mary knitted for him and wearing a winter cap that’s seated just above his eyebrows. Sam thinks it’s more than a little conspicuous, but he’d done it without Sam needing to get annoyed with him. The tattoos would get him a hell of a lot more questions, even if Higgs’ face was never put up on the Chiral. Hell, his masks’ exact description weren’t even part of the history that was written down.

As far as Sam had been concerned, a man driven mad by the Extinction Entity could only take so much of the blame, and Die-Hardman hadn’t exactly been in a position to argue. Oh, America will remember the terrorist acts as Higgs’ at the behest of the Extinction Entity for as long as the country still stands, but he’s far from the only villain in the UCA’s history. He isn’t even the worst.

Sam wonders when Higgs will look through the records, to see what was written. To see the evils that Bridget Strand committed.

His hands in his pockets, Higgs looks awkward. “What was her name again… Abby? You said she’s turnin’ seven?”

“That’s right,” Sam says, shoving a wrapped present into Higgs’ arms, who looks at it like he thinks it might be a bomb. “Youngest kid in the village.” 

“How many kids are there?”

“Five. Oldest’s fifteen.”

“Huh,” is all that Higgs says. 

**

The communal kitchen area is already bustling with activity when they arrive. Higgs looks overwhelmed, but after a moment in which he appears to bite the inside of his cheek, he sets the present down with the rest, which are a sizeable pile. He quickly moves back to Sam, hovering behind him like he thinks Sam makes a good shield, which is comical considering he’s half a foot taller. 

He says a handful of humble, polite greetings to the people who approach him— he is, after all, the first companion of Sam’s most of them have seen in a long time. Their curiosity is understandable. But mostly, Higgs sticks to Sam’s side. At one point, it would have unnerved him to have the former terrorist practically clinging to him like he’s a security blanket, but now it’s only a little strange.

Higgs touches Sam on the shoulder every once in a while, and Sam is pretty sure it’s a nervous tick more than anything else. A very weird, somewhat unsettling, way of anchoring himself. Sam doesn’t mind it much, though. Maybe he should. Especially considering Higgs had told him not so long ago that he didn’t like being touched. Maybe being the one to initiate it really does make all the difference to him.

He’s not going to ask about it in front of the entire village.

“Interesting group,” Higgs says quietly. The village skews younger, though it’s not difficult to be younger than two apparently immortal repatriates. The vast majority are in their 30s, now; the village in its second generation. They’ve grown up with the Death Stranding around, raised by people who grew up with the Death Stranding as their reality. It’s strange what can become the new normal.

“They’re good people.”

Higgs make a noncommittal noise at that, which Sam takes as a decent enough sign. It’s not overly agreeable, not sarcastic. It’s at least an acknowledgement, even if Higgs seems more comfortable in the shelter with Sam than he is out here with nearly 30 people.

**

At the table, most of the villagers are focused on Abby; it is her special day, after all, and with so few children in the village, people do tend to spoil them. But Abby’s focus is almost entirely on Higgs— which, Sam concedes, he should have seen coming. Higgs is the first newcomer Abby has seen in her life.

“Where’re you from, Mr. Higgs?” “How’d you and Mr. Sam meet, Mr. Higgs?” “What’s it like being a porter, Mr. Higgs?” Abby is too young to be able to pick up on Higgs’ polite deflections of her questions, the non-answers, as he turns the question to be about her instead. Sam wonders how many of the adults have taken notice.

It’s a while before she asks him a question he appears to take seriously. “What do you do for fun?”

“Ah,” Higgs says. “Reading. I have quite the collection of pre-Stranding books. I believe I may have taken over more ‘n my fair share of the space with them.” Sam is so incredibly grateful for the normal, and appropriate, answer. It’s something Abby can relate to; and Higgs doesn’t know what to do with kids, if his uncomfortable shift in posture is any indication, leaning heavily into Sam’s space.

“What kind of books do you like?”

Higgs’ gaze flickers to Sam for a moment, before he answers the question in his charming tone. “Sad books, usually. Being sad can make ‘em a good story.”

Abby frowns at this. “But don’t they make you sad?”

“It’s nothin’ you need to worry about, darlin’,” he answers gently. “What kind of books do you like?”

“Oh,” she says brightly, segue successfully distracting her. “I like funny stories! I found this book on the Chiral about a dog who ate alphabet soup, but all the letters went to her brain instead of her tummy, so now she can talk!”

“Is that right?” Higgs says, sounding genuinely amused.

In all honesty, Sam hadn’t pictured the day going as well as it has.

Higgs is still Higgs; he’s charming enough, Sam guesses, and most of the villagers seem to appreciate him, if only because he’s living with Sam; and Sam has been told more than once how important he is to everybody. 

They tell him he’s lonely. That he should find someone, anyone.

It’s not the first time he’s been told it, and he knows it won’t be the last. But he does have a wall up around him, something cold and closed off. Something that won’t get hurt again.

Sam pretends not to notice how Higgs shifts when being addressed, leaning his body near-imperceptivity closer to him, only leaving Sam’s space as soon as the conversation moves to somebody else.

When Abby opens her present from Sam, her eyes light up, and she pulls the plush dog he’d customed ordered from an artist he’d met on the Chiral. She throws her arms around him, plush dog still in hand, with a gracious “Thank you, Mr. Sam!” and before Sam can stop her, wraps both arms around Higgs. The tension shoots up Higgs’ spine like he’s been struck, shoulders upwards defensively.

It feels like a long, long moment before he watches Higgs awkwardly pat Abby on the back, and Sam knows there’s nothing to worry about after all.

**

It’s after the party, when Higgs looks grateful to be back in the shelter, that Sam figures he can ease off the man a little. He had done what Sam asked; and he’d done it while not being completely comfortable with the situation. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had a birthday party,” Higgs says quietly, perched on the edge of the couch, a new book in his lap.

“Never? How old’re you— err, how old were you before, one hundred years ago?”

“I don’t rightly know,” Higgs admits with a sigh. “I reckon I was close to forty, though. Daddy never bothered with birthdays; only thing I ever got from him was a beating. And DOOMS.” 

“I’m sorry.”

Higgs glances at him, and then shrugs his shoulders. Like Sam, there are things he just doesn’t want to discuss, and Sam can’t exactly blame him. There’s so much about Sam nobody knows, and to be honest, he wants it to stay that way. 

But Higgs is suddenly looking like he’s ready for a fight, just as soon as it looks like he was thinking of closing off again. His shoulders are tense, jaws clenched. It’s so strange to see Higgs when he’s clearly uncomfortably out of his element.

“I played circus monkey for you,” Higgs drawls in his slow way, his tone dripping with loathing. For himself or Sam, Sam can’t tell. “So what say you, did I pass the Sam Bridges test?” There’s challenge in his eyes.

“You did fine,” Sam says, which appears to drain the challenge entirely out of Higgs. His shoulders droop as he settles deeper into the couch.

“Oh,” he says.

“Thank you,” Sam adds, after a moment, because it seems the thing to do.

“Don’t mention it,” Higgs says, looking like he’s never been thanked before in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Abby mentions to Higgs [actually exists.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martha_Speaks_\(book\))
> 
> I also want to thank everyone who's left a comment and kudos so far, it means a lot to me, even if I don't reply to everyone!


	13. Chapter 13

Sam thanked him.

Sam _thanked_ him.

Sam thanked _him_.

Higgs must be dreaming, there’s no way this is happening right now. How the hell has he pleased Sam? But Sam is sitting near him on the couch, keeping a space between the two of them, and thinking about it makes the spot in his chest itch so badly Higgs really wants to gouge his ribcage open. It’s probably the only way to get rid of that ever present, nagging sensation. Rip the strand right out of him, and then Sam moves closer, still keeping space between them, but looking at Higgs seriously.

“Listen, Higgs. We’ve been livin’ together for a few months now, but we hardly know anything about each other. Nothin’ real useful, anyway,” he says. “You asked me, a while back, about a woman who was in a lot of pictures with me. You were delirious, and I didn’t really want to talk about it anyway.” He wrings his hands together, not looking at Higgs. Looking at his hands, instead.

“Truth is, that’s Lou. That’s my little girl. She was with me the whole way, when I was ‘rebuilding America’. I’ve outlived all of them. I’ve even outlived her. I’ve outlived everyone but you. One day, Abby will be as old as her, and we’ll both be exactly the same.”

The notion that Sam expects Higgs to still be around decades from now is… sure something. He supposes he should be flattered.

“It’s touching of you to raise your BB as your own child,” Higgs says mildly. He’s not sure what to say. He doesn’t like children much, and he’s spent much too long pretending not to have seen the obituary for Sam’s child.

“She was my daughter.”

“Yes, yes, I understand the concept of adoption. You forget, I was raised by my—”

“Higgs,” Sam says, his tone enough to snap the rest of the thought out of Higgs’ mind. “You’re not listening to me. She was _my_ daughter.”

Higgs swallows. “I don’t understand,” he says eventually. 

“Bridget knew Lucy— my wife, was pregnant,” Sam says sadly. “With me having DOOMS ‘n her being born pre-Stranding, there was a good as hell chance our daughter would have DOOMS. Just like her dad,” He smooths his hands through his hair, like he can’t believe he’s talking about it. Higgs can’t really believe he’s talking about it, either. “Bridget did something to Lucy. Stole her and our unborn daughter away. Caused her brain death— and then covered up the kidnapping with a voidout.”

There are tears streaking down Sam’s face, tears Higgs can feel mirrored on his own. “She overdosed on sedatives. Suicide. But she never went necro, Bridget made sure of that. They stole Lucy away, made her a stillmother; put our daughter in a pod that kept her between life and death, and then had me use my own child as a tool. Tried to have me burn my own daughter in an incinerator.”

Higgs remembers the confrontation in Edge Knot City, how the BB had used the odradek like a shield to defend Sam. She’d known, hadn’t she? As an unborn baby, she’d known. She’d been protecting her father. 

God fucking dammit, Higgs Monaghan. You’re a monster.

“Don’t,” Sam says.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me like you’re thinking of shutting down, of shutting me out. I’m not…” he trails off, biting at his lip. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty of whatever events happened that are fresh on your mind, but happened a hundred years ago for me. I’m telling this to you because you’re not the only person she fucked over.”

Higgs swallows, but can’t bring himself to say anything. 

“My entire life, I’ve been alone,” Sam says, and Higgs doesn’t understand why Sam is opening up to him, telling him these things.

“I don’t know if being around people ever helped,” Higgs says eventually. “I swore I’d never show my face again.”

“Because you identify with the dead more than the living?”

“The dead grant me power. The living haven’t done anything but regard me as a freak.” He’s expecting Sam, goody-two-shoes Sam, to get angry with him, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything. He acts like what Higgs is saying is completely reasonable, and not something he should be ashamed of.

“Dyin’ and coming back to life doesn’t make you popular when you’re a kid. Think I got called a zombie more than my name. Friends were hard to make.”

“I never had friends. I was too busy trying to survive.”

Sam gives him a long, sad look, hand outstretched as if to touch Higgs, but he retracts it after a moment. Higgs feels a pang in his chest, so he reaches out to touch Sam on the shoulder instead and is surprised when Sam doesn’t recoil from the touch.

“How old were you, when you started delivering packages?” Higgs is so grateful Sam doesn’t bring up Daddy. He’s not sure he could keep his composure.

“Twelve, I believe. I think I was getting work because people pitied me.”

“Work is work,” Sam says. “Honest work is hard to come by.”

“I guess,” Higgs shrugs. “I was pretty good at it. And, bein’ able to sense BTs, it got me a lot of work. I might’ve been a kid, but people twice my age would drop packages at the first sight of rain; not me. I knew when they were around, when they weren’t. I was independent, you know. No UCA, no porter company. Just me, for most of my life. Just me ‘n my sixth sense for BTs.”

Sam frowns, looking thoughtful. Higgs’ hand is still on his shoulder, looped around him. The contact feels so good, and the conversation so horrible. “That was it? I’ve seen the things you can do firsthand, there’s no way that’s it.”

“That was me hooked into purgatory itself. I couldn’t get anywhere near that powerful on my own, not without plenty of help from the other side. As of now, sensing BTs is all I’m good for. I hope that doesn’t put a damper on things.” 

He doesn’t want to admit that the Beach absolutely terrifies him. He doesn’t want to warp, doesn’t want these powers. He doesn’t want Sam to think of him as some weak, useless thing.

If he could fall asleep tonight, and wake up on the other side tomorrow, he’d do it. He’d do it in a goddamn heartbeat.


	14. Chapter 14

By the time Higgs falls into an uneasy sleep, his face still somewhat stained with black tears, Sam is left unsure of what to do. The conversation hadn’t exactly gone the way he’d wanted it to; he’d wanted to reach out to the man, to let him know he wasn’t alone. All Sam thinks he’d done is made Higgs double down on his own self-loathing.

If Lockne and Målingen were still around, maybe they’d be able to help Sam reach the man. They spent their whole lives on the edge between life and death, and they’d done it together. Higgs never had that option. Hell, neither did Sam. Rejected by life and death, Sam is doomed to walk the Earth for as long as it exists. Maybe even longer. Higgs, it seems, had been chosen by death itself to be some sort of speaker for the stranded dead. He’s probably been given the same curse as Sam.

No wonder he’d been so fully enraptured by the Extinction Entity— she was probably the first thing in his life that made sense. A reason to embrace his powers over death.

Maybe taking power from the dead eases their pain; like how Sam can cut their strands binding them to the mortal plane. Sending them on their way to the other side. The Extinction Entity had corrupted that, turned it into a desire to cause suffering.

Sam is no speaker for the living—he doesn’t think so. He shouldn’t have been chosen for the role, that’s for damn sure. He’d never set out to do it, had never intentionally set out to befriend people wherever he goes. He just does things the way he’s always done them; delivering lost packages, offering to help people as he passes through.

But by existing, by continuing to live, but not living in isolation… he might as well be. That bridge to the future. Bridget had seen it. His father had seen it. 

There’d been something special about him, since he was a baby.

Maybe the same thing was true with Higgs. 

They’d just been chosen, for whatever fucking reason, to do this task. Like maybe together, they were meant to do something important. And then the Extinction Entity had come along, and fucked up the universe’s plans.

Bridget had destroyed the barrier between life and death, brought the Death Stranding upon the world, all to make sure one of her pawns remained alive. And then, with Sam’s connection from both life and death severed, the universe needed to self-correct. Divine intervention, shit luck, random chance; whatever you call it, maybe they were forever linked the moment Higgs was born.

Sam had always been so very lonely, always cut off from people, never feeling like he was really even there. He’d loved Lucy dearly, and he’d loved Lou with all his heart. But even then, even then, he’d been alone. He’d walked from one end of America to the other, and he’d done it alone.

Even now, with what might be the cosmos’ idea of a hilarious joke: the terrorist who made his life a living hell, who killed him on multiple occasions, who tried to end the world; the man who could very well be the other half of his fucking soul— Sam feels lonely.

One look in those ice blue eyes tells him all that he needs to know about how much Higgs feels that loneliness himself. 

They’re together, but completely alone.


	15. Chapter 15

Higgs wakes the next morning. He wishes he hadn’t woken up at all. 

He feels like absolute hell, and doesn’t know how he and Sam had ended up having the conversation they did. And that shit about Bridget… fuck! It’s hard to wrap his mind around it. The idea that She maybe didn’t love Sam after all.

Or that, maybe, horribly, She _did_ love him. Maybe Her only expression of it was misery and torment, like how Daddy’s had been fists and knives. 

He can hear Sam moving about the shelter, but doesn’t move from the mattress, not wanting to alert the other man to the fact that he’s awake. Hearing Sam walking around, digging through the cabinets, starting to cook breakfast. The shelter is small enough he can’t avoid the smell, even if hid in the bathroom. He’d do it, too, if he thought he could do it without Sam noticing. Sam would probably let him get away with it, even if he saw.

Actually, breakfast sounds really nice just about now. Maybe he can make some mimosa to go with it. Or skip the breakfast and just go for the mimosa.

Higgs sits up, taking in the chiral-gold backpack sitting near the entrance of the shelter with a frown. Was Sam packing? Thinking of going somewhere? Anxiety claws at Higgs’ insides, making the itchy spot in his chest ache. 

“Mornin’,” Sam says. 

“You plannin’ on going somewhere?” Higgs asks, annoyed with the harshness of his tone, of how it gives away far too much.

“Not right away,” Sam says, which isn’t a denial. “C’mon, breakfast is going to get cold.”

They eat in silence, Higgs not sure he wants to say anything at all, and Sam looking like he’s trying to figure out how to word whatever’s on his mind. Higgs didn’t use to have so much trouble thinking of what to say. Charisma used to come incredibly easy to him, enough that getting allies hadn’t given him much trouble at all. 

It’s how he’d managed to convince Fragile to join forces, with her ability to use the Beach and his to sense BTs. And then he’d met the Extinction Entity, who had convinced him all he needed was Her, and down went the only friendship he’d ever had in his entire life, like Icarus before the Sun.

“So,” Sam says, after finishing his omelette. Higgs is still stabbing at his with a fork. “You’ve already seen the backpack. I got an order request in, one that’s pretty important, so off I’m going again.”

“Why are you doing this? Working for the UCA, hauling people’s shit around the country. I thought you were retired?”

Sam’s eyebrows climb up his face. “I don’t work for the UCA,” is what he decides to start with. He takes his plate to the sink, and Higgs thinks that’s going to be the end of that, but he continues once he’s sat back down across from Higgs. “Independent porter. Been like that for ages.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re playing pack mule.”

Sam shrugs. “I’m the only porter with DOOMS. I get asked to do the things nobody else can. South Knot has something that needs picking up at Mountain Knot, and nobody else wants to trek across the entire country with a hundred pounds of shit on their back.”

“That’s my whole point. Why are you bothering?”

“I’ve done it my whole life. Feels strange, not doin’ it.”

Higgs sighs, but knows better than to press Sam, because he’s bullheaded, and not the sort of man who backs down from a challenge. They’re a lot alike, in that regard. 

“Isn’t it going to take a week for you to get there? You should use the Beach.” Higgs doesn’t like using it, but that doesn’t mean that Sam shouldn’t take advantage of the express highway that is the ability to warp.

“Can’t,” Sam says. “I can’t bring cargo with me, just the clothes on my back. Only time I’d Jump is if there’re orders that need deliverin’ in the area that I could do all at once.”

Right. Higgs had been the one who was able to take objects with him, and that had nothing to do with any particular talents he possessed. 

“I still think it’s pointless to help people who might all be dead in another hundred years.”

Sam works at his jaw, frowning in that way Higgs can’t place. “You could come with me,” is what he ends up saying.

“What?”

“You could come with me. It’s not like we’d be roughin’ it outside or anything, that’s too dangerous, even for us. But there’re plenty of well-maintained shelters along the way; hot showers and warm beds in ‘em.”

“Why the hell would I do that? I have no interest in helping these people.”

Still working his jaw, looking lost in thought, Sam shrugs. “It’s not like I’m askin’ you to help carry anything, but it’s going to take a long time to get there, and a long time to get back. Could use the company.”

“Fuck, no.”

The hurt in Sam’s face is quickly masked, like everything else with him, but he appears to take it in stride anyway. “Your call. Ain’t gonna force you,” he says casually. He leaves the table to do whatever it is that he’s going to do before leaving, and Higgs finishes his now cold breakfast without saying a word.

**

Sam, all dressed up in a ridiculous jumpsuit and his hair pulled back in a ponytail, looks remarkably like the way Higgs remembers him. His jumpsuit shows no signs of being something designed by the UCA, though Higgs does watch as Sam snaps a pair of cufflinks on his wrist, twisting his wrist to pull up a blue screen as he starts flipping through channels, apparently plotting his route. 

Higgs thinks that’ll be all, Sam off to deliver goods to undeserving people, but he digs through one of his trunks full of shit before offering a pair of cufflinks out for Higgs. “Why the hell would I let the UCA track me?” Higgs sneers.

“Those aren’t the UCA’s links, they’re mine. For my company, they were— never mind. Point is, wearing them identifies you as an employee of Porter Delivery Service.” Higgs doesn’t comment on the name, but his eyes do linger on the logo on Sam’s jumpsuit, the stylized astronaut on his chest. “They have a codec on them that’ll let you contact me right away, if you’d like.”

Higgs takes them with some trepidation, but doesn’t put them on. 

Sam adjusts his backpack, looking like something’s on his mind. “Are you sure you don’t wanna come with me? It’s going to be two weeks.”

“Get fuckin’ goin’, Bridges. Wouldn’t want you late for your order.”

Sam looks at him for a long moment before sighing. “See you soon, Higgs. Try not to destroy the shelter while I’m gone.” He says it so soberly, Higgs can’t tell if it’s a joke or not. He decides to take it as a serious request.

Sam leaves.

Higgs really didn’t think he would. He stands there, for a while. In the silence of the shelter, suddenly aware of how empty it is. 

It’s only five minutes. He’s positive it’s only five minutes, because he fucking counted. He doesn’t know why, but all of a sudden he’s putting on his winter coat, pulling the door of the shelter open as he rushes past the delivery console. “Sam, wait!”

But Sam isn’t there. 

Sam isn’t there.

The snow has already covered his tracks, falling gently and slowly to the ground.


	16. Chapter 16

It’s three hours before Sam hears the jingle of the codec announcing a call from Higgs. It’s three hours longer than he thought it would take for Higgs to decide he wanted to talk after all. “You walk too fucking fast,” Higgs grumps at him, and Sam can’t help the little laugh.

“No I don’t. You should know that better than anyone, since you spent all of your time stalking me.”

“Then how the hell did you disappear so quickly?”

Sam feels something cold crawl down his spine, something that has nothing to do with the temperature of the air. “Higgs, I’ve been gone three hours.” They haven’t had many times since Higgs was brought back from the Beach where one of them has been alone for an extended period of time. Just the one time Higgs had gone out into the village to explore while Sam was delivering, and that had only been for a couple of hours. Maybe Higgs is still in bad enough shape Sam shouldn’t have left him alone.

“That ain’t possible,” Higgs growls, stubborn, and obviously not wanting to acknowledge the unsettling truth. Sam doesn’t, either.

Sam isn’t sure what to say. He does not want to be Higgs’ babysitter, but the man is not well. And he’s clearly in worse shape than Sam initially thought he’d been in, to lose track of time so completely. “Listen,” he says. “I still need to walk to get to South Knot; that’s not negotiable. But once I’ve delivered, I should be able to warp back. It’ll cut a week off my travel time.”

“…why are you tellin’ me this?”

“I’m just saying, I can get back quicker.”

“Do whatever you want.” Higgs’ tone is closed off and indifferent. There was a point, not even so long ago, that Sam would have taken the comment at face value, but now, he can hear the edge to it, the way it’s laced with something more. The notion that Higgs wants something, but has decided he won’t get it. Sam lets it go, for now. 

He wishes the connection between the two of them gave him any sort of information, but it doesn’t. It’s just there, twisting and winding. He wonders what Higgs feels, the way he clutches at his chest whenever he starts thinking about something unpleasant.

Higgs had been connected to Amelie long enough she’d started to crowd him out of his own head. Infecting his mind, giving him delusions of grandeur when all he’d been was a mouthpiece to spread the word about the end of times. Suddenly losing that… Sam wonders if it had been painful. 

It’s no wonder Higgs had attempted suicide. The loss alone would probably have killed anyone who wasn’t a repatriate.

“Hey, Higgs,” Sam says, trying to pull himself from the thoughts. There’s nothing he can do for Higgs right now, as it is. And he doesn’t think that’s how it works, but in case it is, he doesn’t want to be responsible for sending some sort of bad vibes through their tenuous connection. “What was with that ‘God particle’ shit you used to yell about?”

“Oh, that,” Higgs says dully from the other side of the codec, and Sam already feels like he’s made a mistake. “Ramblings of a self-important fool, nothing more.”

“Was that really it?”

Higgs sighs, and takes a moment before answering. “It’s just… my name, well. I reckon my Mama must’ve been readin’ up on some sciencey shit when she was pregnant with me. The whole wide world, and everything beyond it are made of tiny little things called atoms. Particles are even smaller than that, and the Higgs boson is what binds them together into objects with mass, instead of little bundles of pure energy to be wiped away immediately. Without it, there wouldn’t be nothin’ anywhere.”

Sam gets the feeling Higgs is dumbing down the explanation for him, but to be honest, it still doesn’t make any sense. He’s a delivery guy, not a scientist. “There were a bunch of people workin’ to prove it actually existed, yeah? It would reshape the way the entire scientific community viewed the big ol’ universe. ‘Course, that was back in the day when people could still see the stars. Anyway, there were these two fellas who finally cracked the code, got a fancy award for it and everything, named Peter Higgs and François Englert, who—”

Higgs is still talking, Sam knows Higgs is still talking, but he can’t pay attention now, because he’s _heard_ those names before, where the hell has he heard them before?

And then it hits him, Jesus Christ, it hits him, and he can’t believe it didn’t ever occur to him to look into it before, with the Chiral network at his disposal. There had been something off about Peter Englert from the start, before Sam had suspected his real identity, and he _didn’t look into it._

“Are you fuckin’ telling me,” Sam says, interrupting Higgs’ explanation of some large underground tube that was used to look for the ‘God particle’, “that the pizza fan pseudonym of yours was a fucking _pun?_ ”

“Uh,” Higgs says, clearly caught off guard. “Yes?”

“Jesus Christ,” Sam mutters.

Apparently grateful for the abrupt shift in topic, Higgs laughs. “Did you enjoy the schematics?”

“Actually, yes. Beat the shit Bridges had me printing by a mile.” He’s not sure what had compelled Higgs to give his enemy access to incredible weapons, after his fight with Sam had left him forever stranded on the Beach. “I didn’t share them, kept them to myself.”

…Unless.

Maybe he does know. 

Maybe he’s known all along.

“Must’ve been a shock for you, findin’ out your ol’ pal Peter was Higgs Monaghan the entire time.” He can hear the smirk on Higgs’ lips through that drawl. 

“Oh, I knew it was you by the second order,” Sam says nonchalantly. It’s been worth it, sitting on that bit of information for as long as he has.

 _”What?!”_ Higgs’ indignant squeak is almost cute.

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked me to order you any pizza since you’ve been livin’ in the shelter,” Sam teases.

Higgs makes half a dozen attempts at aborted insults, before settling on petulant obscenities. 

Yeah, sitting on that information had been _very_ worth it.


	17. Chapter 17

Sam’s still not convinced Higgs is in that great of condition, but the two of them fall into a rapport. Higgs, it seems, has decided to leave his codec on almost constantly. There are times he’ll disconnect, but he’s always back before an hour passes. He even keeps it on at night, when it seems he feels Sam’s absence more acutely. It’s strange, but Sam has had DOOMS nightmares his entire life. He barely sleeps on a good night. Having someone to talk to at all hours is kind of nice.

Before that, it’d been Amelie, and, well… 

He can’t bring himself to miss that.

Sam’s also taken to announcing when he’s eating. Talking about his breakfast, the quick lunches. “Hope you’re eatin’ somethin’ more filling than the cryptobiotes.” If Higgs has caught onto what Sam’s doing, he hasn’t said anything, but he has proceeded to get food for himself every time Sam talks about eating. Sam chalks that up to a win.

“When will you be back?” Higgs asks him, when he’s about two days from South Knot.

“Soon.”

“Gotta be a little more specific than that, Sammy.”

“Three days, maybe? I’m nearly there.” They haven’t brought up Sam’s plan to warp back after the delivery again, so the silence on Higgs’ end is telling. 

“I’m gonna hold you to that. I don’t take kindly to people lyin’ to me,” he says.

“I know.”

“You should bring pizza with you.”

“I’ll try.”

**

The remainder of the week passes without incident. They continue their discussions about nothing in particular. Sometimes, rarely, Higgs offers up something about himself, something that isn’t self-loathing or discussions of his troubled past. Sam learns that Higgs longs to see the stars, the clear night sky, and they both spend an evening discussing if there’s a possibility that, somewhere, there’s a part of the world untouched by the chiral clouds.

When he finally reaches South Knot, he feels the exhaustion in every bone of his body. He tells Higgs goodnight, that he’ll head out in the morning, and falls asleep almost as soon as his head touches the pillow in his small private room.

He probably could have slept soundly the entire night, but a noise startles him, a familiar noise. The rush of wind indoors and his eyes snap open, taking in the darkened room.

Fragile is here, looming over him on the bed, looking as young as she did when he first met her. He burned her body himself, so she can’t be here, but here she is, standing over over his bed, furious and angry, and it takes a moment for him to sit up, to stare at those large, angry eyes. At how haunted and hurt she is.

“Why did you bring him back Sam? Why did you let that bastard leave the Beach?”

“Fragile…” he sits up, not sure what’s happening. Is she a ghost?

“Was this your plan all along? Wait until I’m gone, everyone’s gone, and bring him _back?_ ”

“Everyone else is fucking dead!” Sam snaps, emotion overtaking him. Fuck, he’s crying. It’s been a while, since he cried real tears, and not ones from the chiral allergy. “Higgs is the only one left. He’s… different, without Amelie pulling the strings.”

“That’s _bullshit_ and you know it! He’s a psychopath; he had me destroy Middle Knot unknowingly, destroyed half of South Knot, and then he tried to have _you_ finish the job! He ruined my body!” She takes in a quivering, furious breath. “He murdered Målingen, killed her and Lockne’s child! He killed Heartman’s entire family! He’s a monster, Sam. A monster that doesn’t deserve forgiveness.”

Sam hesitates. “I know,” he says. “I know. I can’t… I can’t excuse what he’s done. But when I look at him, I don’t see that monster. Every time I look at him, I see that lonely man who grew up without anybody there for him, who had no one to turn to. Who despite wanting to be left alone, also wanted to help people.” God, admitting this is… 

“I see _me_ in him, Fragile. I see myself. It makes me wonder, if the roles had been reversed, would it have been me sending people to oblivion, and Higgs trying to stop extinction?”

If he has to deal with the haunting, disappointed visages of his friends for the rest of eternity, that’ll be his burden to bear. “It’s fine if you hate me for it. I know what he did, and I helped him anyway. But one day, sooner than I want to admit, we’ll be all each other has left.”

“I should have known,” Fragile says, only it’s not her voice. She looks at him with cold, calculating eyes. “I knew this would happen, if the two of you met.” He’s never seen her look so malicious, so cruel. 

“Fragile?”

It’s not Fragile standing there, it’s Bridget. Bridget stands before him, imposing, in Higgs’ chiral-gold mask. “That’s why I had to prevent this. That’s why I pitted him again you, before you even knew he existed. I knew what would happen, if you got too close.”

He startles awake, falling out of bed with a yelp, heart hammering away in his throat.

Fuck. 

He doesn’t know what that was, but he wants to hope it was just a dream. Just a nightmare, like he has every night. Wants to hope he’d been told the truth, that she wanted to delay extinction as long as possible. 

But he doesn’t know how much he believes that. He doesn’t trust her at all; not after she’d revealed the horrible truth of his birth to Sam only after her Beach had been cut off, thus allowing herself to avoid any confrontation about her crimes. Tried to ease the horror, with saving Lou. But he can’t forget, can’t forgive something so horrifying. 

When Sam crawls back into bed, he wills himself to believe it was just a nightmare, and not an omen of things to come.


	18. Chapter 18

After the first couple days after Sam left for that damn delivery, things are almost okay, as far as Higgs thinks. Almost. He doesn’t ever leave the shelter, even knowing he could step out into the village and find _something_ to do. There’s more to the communal spaces than a kitchen with an enormous long table, like that painting by da Vinci, and the tiny greenhouse. But he doesn’t want to leave, because the shelter has become his home. More of a home than the suffocating hallways that connect the rest of the villagers together. There’s something lived-in about this place, something about seeing it, knowing that Sam lives here, that makes it feel right. He’s almost, but not quite, able to consider it _his_ home.

It’s a very strange concept. The shelter he’d been living in outside of Middle Knot’s ruins hadn’t been something he’d considered a home, not really. A place to sleep, to eat. To occasionally harass Sam with outlandish orders for pizza from far-off places, with even more outlandish stories, just to see what the man would do. 

Other porters were incompetent and careless at best. But Sam always delivered the pizza in perfect condition. Even the champagne he’d been forced to carry by hand all the way from the Timefall Farm had arrived at the shelter without a single scratch on the casing. And Sam had delivered it knowing it was for Higgs.

He’d drunk the entire bottle in one sitting, and pretended for a couple hours that he wasn’t privy to an apocalypse no one else was willing to see coming.

It had been worth it, even if it had left him in a stupor for the better part of the day, unable to think about anything else besides how funny it was that humanity was fucked six ways to Sunday, and that the herald of the apocalypse was drunk off his ass on the floor of a shelter covered in books and empty pizza boxes. 

Now, in Sam’s home, he can’t get drunk so easily. The man only ever has five— _five_ , not six, who the hell does that?— cans of beer at his place at one time, and it’s weak, tasteless shit. Higgs doesn’t exactly want to try going about ordering more, not when Sam always leaves his house to greet the porters, and Higgs doesn’t want to, and won’t, show his face even as a hologram. 

So here he stays, bored, cursing himself for not immediately changing his mind, for apparently standing there for _three fucking hours_ before deciding he didn’t want to be alone after all. But now, it’s too late. He’s bored and lonely, and that spot in his chest aches worse than usual. He’s too bored to want to read, too restless to sit down and watch some movie on the Chiral, so instead he paces, back and forth.

He can’t even mutter to himself, because then Sam would hear, and probably get all concerned, when he shouldn’t.

“Remind me to get a waffle maker for the shelter,” Sam says through the codec, as though he can read Higgs’ fucking mind.

“What?”

“A waffle maker. A prepper let me spend the night, recognized me because I’d helped her grandparents. She’s got one, told me you can cook all sorts of things in them, not just waffles. She cooked some eggs in it.”

It’s nearly eleven, and he hasn’t eaten anything yet. Seems like Sam’s eating late, too. He shuffles into the kitchen and sighs. “It’s your home, Sam.” He digs through the cabinets before he comes across the box of toaster pastries, grabbing one of the little packages, not even bothering to put the box away. Sam’s not going to be home for a couple days, so it’s fine.

“So that’s a yes?” Sam asks, reminding Higgs that he doesn’t understand the man at all. He doesn’t remember this version of Sam, this man who makes an effort for people instead of keeping them at an enormous distance.

“Do whatever you want.”

He’s tired of this. 

Food eaten, he lays on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The climate controls mean it’s warm, comfortable, even, compared to the year-round snow on the mountainside. He wants to leave, but can’t bring himself to. With his DOOMS so faded, all that would happen is that he’d set out with no particular goal in mind, and likely die from exposure. Wouldn’t be the first time.

He could head off into a BT area, there is one not so far away, and trigger a voidout. But some irritating, conscientious part of him worries that, even if his powers return, something bad could happen to the folks here. Something bad could happen to _Abby._

Higgs comes back to the present enough to realize Sam’s talking again, though for how long he’s not sure. “…of coming back the following morning. How’s that?”

“Huh?”

“When I arrive at South Knot, it’s going to be late. I’ll head back in the morning. That’ll be still within three days, like I said.”

“Oh, right,” Higgs says distractedly.

“You all right?”

“Yes,” Higgs lies. 

It seems to satisfy Sam, though, because for a long while, he falls silent. The only thing Higgs can hear is his breathing, occasionally labored, but steady. There’s something comforting about that, something he doesn’t want to linger on for too long.

“Sam,” he says after the silence becomes uncomfortably long. Sam doesn’t respond, but Higgs knows he’s listening anyway. “Do you remember that gigantic hurricane? The one over South Knot?”

There’s a long pause before Sam answers. “…Yeah. I remember it.” There’s something off about his voice, but Higgs can’t place it.

“What _was_ that? I swear, I had nothin’ to do with it. Strangest fuckin’ thing.”

“I know you didn’t have anything to do it,” Sam says carefully. Higgs is really starting to dislike that tone. The nerve of him, asking Higgs to open up, when it’s clear Sam is hiding something.

“Care to share?”

“That’s,” Sam hesitates, actually sounding uncomfortable. Interesting reaction. “Later. It’s a long story, and I… it’s going to take some explanation. Not the sort of thing I want to do over the comms.”

Shit, it’s one of those stories, huh?

“Right,” Higgs mutters. “Later. Sure.”


	19. Chapter 19

“Later” doesn’t seem like it’s coming fast enough.

Sam still isn’t back yet, when it’s been almost a complete week, now. Of course, he knows that Sam will come back; Sam promised. It just hasn’t been an entire week plus one day yet. But the nagging, aching sensation in his chest has only become more acute. Higgs hates it, hates how it’s constant and ever-present, how he’d never felt anything like it when he’d been connected to Amelie. Crowding out the herald’s own sense of self, it had been… nice, in a way. Erasing that emptiness that’s always been inside of him, and replacing it with pure power.

But now, he’s alone in his own head, has been alone in his own head for such a long time… 

Even with Sam telling him where he is at every step of the way, Higgs _still_ isn’t certain if Sam is coming back today or tomorrow, and doesn’t want to ask.

God, he can’t do this again. Can’t have Sam leave him alone like this, where there’s nothing to do, nothing but his own thoughts and boredom. 

It seems like his thoughts are always turning to Sam. Have always turned to Sam. Always, always, ever since he first learned of the man’s existence. 

His goddess had put Sam in his head, and now Higgs can’t get him _out_ of his head. The longing is going to drive him mad; it feels nothing like the only other true connection he’s had in his life. With Fragile’s DOOMS and his smarts, Higgs could have helped build a better world than the one the UCA was trying to achieve. True freedom, no government anywhere. And then he’d carelessly thrown her away. It’s obvious Sam agrees government is useless, to some extent. He’s no longer with the UCA, has maybe not been with the UCA for a very long time. 

It’s not fair, this isn’t fair.

He’d done everything She wanted, and all of it, _all of it_ had been to compel Sam forward. He’d been used and manipulated, and it still hadn’t been enough. And now he’s stranded in the world of the living, stranded and can never die. Stranded, stranded, and Sam isn’t _even here._

He’s all the way off in South Knot, and Higgs doesn’t know how, because his chest aches and makes him acutely aware of the emptiness inside of him. It was never like this with Fragile, not even after he’d severed that connection, and all the pain and emptiness that had come with it. Fuck the Death Stranding, fuck the connections that tie him to people against his will. Not metaphors, but physical strands, suffocating him. Tying him to death that pulls and pulls and pulls. 

How can Sam stand to have the connection strained so much?

It’s agony, and all he wants, all he wants, is for Sam to either come back, or to have somebody rip the strand from his body. 

Higgs hates this. He wants it to be over with, to find something, anything that’s better than living forever. Any way to die that doesn’t involve coming back again and again. It’s bullshit, complete bullshit, and he’s done it his entire life. The first time had been Daddy’s departing gift, the second some months later, when he’d fallen off the side of a cliff trying to escape MULEs. 

He’d lain there, slowly bleeding out, every bone in his body broken. 

Sam’s done it, too. They’re the only two repatriates in the whole wide world, and surely that can’t be a coincidence. Sam with his goddamn connections to people, to the living. And Higgs with those who have already passed.

It’s a nightmare, a cosmic joke. He’s one of those hapless Lovecraftian narrators, learning something he can’t even begin to understand, and losing sight of himself because of it. Human minds were never meant to understand the Death Stranding, and they weren’t meant to understand the strands and how very, very real they’ve become, either.

Oh, how he wishes he could have been one of those lucky people born before the Death Stranding, who couldn’t feel the connection to the Beach at all.

He stands up unsteadily, wondering how much time has passed. 

Shouldn’t Sam have said something by now, anything?

Maybe he’s left you after all. Who could blame him? You’re a murderer, and he’s Sam Porter Bridges.

Higgs dismisses that voice, because he can’t even begin to think about what would happen to him if Sam was gone for good.

Sam could never leave. Sam is the one who brought him here. Sam is the one who let Higgs sleep in his bed for the better part of a week before Higgs became uncomfortable with the debt he was accumulating, and then instead of just letting him sleep wherever, Sam had gone and bought a second bed.

No, no, no. He’s not alone, can’t be alone. Doesn’t think he could survive on his own. 

He’s so tired, he’s so fucking tired. Maybe, maybe, if he was just in the Seam for a time, things would get better. Floating aimlessly in the empty world between life and death, accessible only to a select two. There’s nothing in the Seam. No heat, no cold. It’s weightless and dark. It’s almost, but not quite, oblivion. The closest a repatriate will ever get. 

He already has a half-formed idea in his head; grab a knife, stay in the Seam. He’s a repatriate, so his body won’t necrotize. He’ll just stay there for a while, maybe forever. Sometimes, he can control how long he stays in that limbo. Sometimes.

He’s already in the kitchen, ready for this, wanting it— and then a hand touches him on the shoulder and the first thing on his mind is absolute terror; Daddy’s found him, Daddy’s come back, he’s going to—

“Jesus fuck, Higgs, it’s me!”

Sam’s standing there. Still in his porter jumpsuit, hair pulled back, staring up at Higgs in what’s probably alarm. He’s gripping at Higgs’ wrists in both of his hands. 

“Sam?”

“You weren’t responding to anything I said,” Sam says, his tone so hard to understand. Concern, worry, maybe a bit of fear. Why? 

“When did you get back?” Higgs rasps, uncomprehending. 

“An hour ago. Come on, let’s sit back down.”

Sam practically carries him to the couch, and helps Higgs lay down on it, stretched out. Higgs has to suppress the impulse to lay his head on Sam’s lap. He’s not sure where the thought came from, like how he’s still not sure what to do with his reaction every time he smells Sam’s shampoo. Maybe there’s something wrong with him.

Maybe there’s always been something wrong with him.


	20. Chapter 20

When Sam had warped back to his home, he hadn’t been certain what he’d be seeing. Higgs had gone quiet on him unexpectedly. It seems like whenever Higgs falls quiet for too long, bad things happen. Mostly to him. They’d spoken, briefly. Higgs saying he was glad Sam was home— using that word, too. ‘Home’. Like maybe Higgs thinks of the shelter as his home, and not just a place he’s staying in. 

He had appeared lucid when he looked at Sam, but that notion had quickly passed. Nothing got him respond. Not the offer of food, not a cautious offer of beer. Nothing. Even Sam sitting down next to him and starting to read aloud that book about the guy who was raised on Shakespeare that Higgs has read five times. 

And then he’d stood up, and stared at the kitchen knives for long enough it was worrisome. And that lashing out in fear, something Sam doesn’t think he can understand. What the hell was going on? He wonders when he’ll be able to understand Higgs.

Now, though, Higgs doesn’t look much better.

There’s something on his mind, something dark and terrible.

Sam really should have insisted on Higgs coming with him to South Knot. He wants to touch Higgs, to brush his fingers through his hair, like he’d done with Lou when she had been a little girl and fallen ill. But he doesn’t, doesn’t want to trigger another episode, doesn’t want to see Higgs looking at him with terror in his eyes ever again.

“Hey, Higgs,” Sam says, gently. Feeling like he’s talking to a frightened animal more than a grown man. “I’ve got us something to eat. Nothin’ too fancy, tonight. Brought some pizza like you asked.” 

He feels a little guilty about leaving the man alone for any period at all, but the shelter is small; he can easily see Higgs from the couch. And the pizza needs to be re-heated.

Ten minutes later, they eat in silence, and Sam watches Higgs hold a slice unsteadily in his hand.

**

It’s only later, close to eleven, when Higgs actually leaves the couch, but he doesn’t go far, instead rounding on Sam with wide eyes. He looks like he’s had some sort of revelation, there’s a euphoria in his expression that wouldn’t have looked out of place on him a century ago, when he’d been preaching the will of the Extinction Entity.

“Higgs?”

Sam stands, ready to stop Higgs from doing… whatever it is that he’s planning.

It’s not exactly possible for Sam to know everything that transpired between Higgs and Amelie. Calling Higgs unreliable is an understatement. He’d been unreliable in his own journal; there’s no way he’d be able to tell Sam anything useful about what actually happened.

The fact that he doesn’t even know if his attempt to nuke South Knot for a second time was actually his idea is proof enough of that.

“I know what to do now,” Higgs murmurs, looking right at Sam with reverent eyes.

Higgs still quite obviously doesn’t like people much, as charming as he is, but he’s never shown a desire to harm anyone in the village, even if he does seem entirely unconcerned with their safety. Though he’s been perfectly kind to Abby, who has taken a liking to him, for whatever reason. But if Sam is anywhere that isn’t the shelter, it seems like Higgs is prone to sinking into dark thoughts.

It’s actually kind of disturbing.

He did have friends at one point, right? Right? Was Higgs always this way, or did the Extinction Entity find a way to warp his manner of thinking?

It’s worth remembering, Sam reminds himself, Higgs _hasn’t_ shown any desire to harm the villagers.

Higgs stares at him with wide, frenzied eyes, and Sam is very grateful the Chiral printer only responds to his biometrics. Higgs can’t go wild printing guns. Can’t hurt Sam, can’t hurt a villager. Can’t hurt himself. “Sam, Sam,” Higgs says, and he’s alarmed when the larger man clings to him, on his knees, wrapping both arms around Sam’s middle. “I’ve figured it out. I need you. I need you,” he’s babbling, and that’s not good at all.

He’s definitely not drunk. The beer’s all accounted for.

“Higgs,” Sam says nervously. He doesn’t like where this is going.

“I’d do anything for you. Anything. Name it and I’ll do it,” Higgs murmurs. Fuck, is he crying? Black’s streaked his face. He hasn’t let go of Sam’s middle, but it doesn’t create the uncomfortable, claustrophobic sensation it would have in the past. The only anxiety Sam feels now is a new kind; an existential terror.

The idea that someone, anyone, would want to compare him to Amelie. To Bridget. He feels queasy and terrified. 

“I’ll do it, I’ll do it without question. Anything, anything. Please, Sam. Please don’t go. Tell me to jump, and I’d ask, ‘how high?’”

He doesn’t know what’s caused this, and Jesus, Higgs is a mess right now.

“Higgs. Higgs, look at me.” Bright blue eyes stare at him, so eager to please it makes him feel nauseous. “I don’t want that shit.”

Higgs recoils like he’s been struck. Sam’s never seen such terror in his eyes, not even earlier today. He’s obviously misunderstood; his addled mind mistaking Sam’s unnerved reaction for rejection. His shoulders shake, tears freely falling down his face now, sobs almost completely silent.

“Hey. Hey,” Sam says, kneeling down, so he’s next to Higgs. He pulls the other man into an embrace. “It’s not you, all right? I’m not saying no to _you._ ” Higgs leans onto him heavily. It’s not lost on Sam that he didn’t immediately try to pull out of the hug. “I don’t want that kind of power over you. I don’t want that kind of power over _anyone_.”

Higgs takes in a shaking breath, trembling against Sam. “How else will you stay?”

Sam doesn’t understand where this is coming from. They’ve been living together for months. Jesus, he can’t do this. He has his own emotional baggage he’s been dealing with; he can’t deal with Higgs falling to pieces on him too. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I’m not going anywhere.” 

Higgs leans against him and doesn’t say anything right away. “We’re friends?” He asks quietly, like he doesn’t know the meaning.

“Of course we are.”

“Since when have we been friends?” Higgs’ voice is so distant.

“Saving me from the shark helped,” Sam says, trying to bring levity to the situation, but feeling like he’s failing.

Higgs huffs against him, clinging to Sam’s shirt. “I’d do anything for you,” he repeats quietly, but it lacks the previous mania.

Sam doesn’t say anything to that, doesn’t know what to say. He just pulls Higgs into a tighter embrace. The sort he spent so long both wanting and fearing. They sit like that for a long time, Higgs still shuddering against him in silent tears.

“Fragile was right. I am broken.”

“You’re preaching to the choir. I’ve been broken my entire life.”

“Have you?” Higgs’ voice is so hazy, Sam isn’t sure he’s processing anything.

“C’mon, let me help you to bed,” he says instead of answering, and he’s surprised and more than a little unsettled when Higgs goes pliant in his arms, willingly having Sam half carry him, half lead him to bed. He doesn’t even protest when Sam brings him a second blanket, only moving at all when Sam gets up to leave for his own bed.

Arms stronger than they should be wrap around him. “Please don’t go,” Higgs murmurs.

It’s awkward and strange, but after a long moment’s hesitation, he relents. Higgs drifts off before Sam does, and for a while, Sam stays there, not moving, awake in the dark.

_I knew what would happen, if you got too close._


	21. Chapter 21

Higgs wakes the next morning, wishing desperately he could have forgotten the previous night’s events, but he has no such luck. It’s fresh on his mind, as is the fact that in his sleep, Sam ended up spooning him, arms wrapped around Higgs like he was a goddamn teddy bear. He manages to peel away from Sam without waking the man, somehow, and retreats to the safety of the bathroom. 

They’d slept like that, the entire night, and that crawling sensation he gets when people get too close to him, when people touch him without warning, rolls down his back like an overstimulated cat. Paradoxically, it’s also completely quelled the hollow, itchy sensation in his chest.

He’s not sure _how_ , when he always feels a sharp anxiety when people try to touch him. Grabbing Sam by the back of the neck, touching him on the shoulder— it had been an act, an intimidation. Some attempt at grabbing power for a man who, deep down, knew he was entirely powerless. 

But Sam hadn’t judged him, in his moment of weakness.

Sam hadn’t even touched him without permission. Permission that Higgs had given him without even considering. It had just happened.

“Higgs?”

Higgs turns, staring at the closed door. “What?”

“Just checkin’ on you. Had kinda a rough night.”

Understatement of the fuckin’ century.

But there’s no reason for him to hide with Sam awake, so he leaves, settling onto the couch. Sam looks at him, concerned. “Do you need anything? I’m gonna fix breakfast; whatever you want.”

“You got anything to drink besides shitty beer?”

“Not for breakfast.”

Higgs doesn’t respond, he doesn’t think. He’s not sure he asked for anything at all, but Sam doesn’t press, doesn’t repeat the question.

“A while back,” Sam says, his tone conversational from the kitchen. “You told me sending one of those sharks after me wasn’t an option. Why?”

Higgs sighs, because the answer should be obvious. “Because, you dyin’ and voiding out an entire city wasn’t exactly something I could do.” _Could_ do, not wanted to do. There’s a difference. Even if no part of him wants to hurt Sam now, without the Extinction Entity’s influence.

“Then why confront me outside of two cities to begin with?”

Higgs gestures to the ceiling. “We were but actors on a stage, for an audience of one.”

“I’m aware.”

“I was the antagonist to your hero. The Bowser to your Mario, if you will.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Sam groans.

Sam’s reaction pulls a laugh from Higgs. “Not a fan of the metaphor?”

“If I never hear that fuckin’ metaphor ever again, it’ll be too soon.”

Which means it’s not the first time he’s heard it. Which means Amelie used it before. Something goes cold in him, and Higgs gets up long enough to pull one of the blankets from his bed and wrap it around himself. The idea that maybe he’s still connected to Her, even with Her Beach severed from the rest of the world for the time being… God. He doesn’t want to think about it. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

The apology seems to shock Sam, though, because he leans over the couch to look at Higgs with a puzzled expression. “Seriously, are you okay?”

“No,” Higgs growls. “No, I’m not okay. I’m not fucking okay!” He’s never _been_ okay, not in his entire life. “I had an eldritch god in my head for the better part of a fuckin’ year, spent an entire fucking century alone on a Beach unable to die, how the fuck do you _think_ I am? I—” Strong arms wrap around his shoulders, and Higgs is so stunned he doesn’t even feel the usual discomfort.

“You’re not alone,” Sam says into his shoulder. “Not anymore.”

Higgs’ dislike of touch isn’t like Sam’s; it’s not a phobia. It’s a strong desire to keep people as far away from him as possible, to the point that it’s now instinctive. He doesn’t need the living anymore, that was a choice he made a very long time ago. The anxiety is an automatic response, built into his bones from all the years he spent keeping people at a distance, not letting anyone see his face. Not even Fragile.

Yet for some reason, it’s not there as strongly with Sam. He doesn’t shove Sam out of the way. The goddamn bond has to be to blame, this unbreakable strand of theirs. Sam pulls out of the hug after a moment, looking awkward. “S-sorry about that,” he stutters, and walks back into the kitchen.

Higgs doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure how to feel.

Just last night, he’d sworn unwavering fealty to Sam, and the worst part is, the worst part, he doesn’t regret it. He’d meant every word of it, because he’s completely unable to comprehend a relationship where he doesn’t give and give and give. Maybe if he’s lucky, he gets a scrap in return. That’s how it had been with Amelie, and he’d been _grateful_ when She deigned to praise him.

And then Sam’s sitting down next to him, holding out a plate of pancakes. He’s done that thing again, where he tunes out the world to sink into the blackness of his own thoughts. “…thanks,” Higgs says, feeling awkward.

Sam reaches out, holding out his hand in an obvious gesture. “Is it all right if…”

Without letting Sam finish, Higgs leans heavily against the man. It feels so nice. Sam wraps his arm around him, and the silence while Higgs eats doesn’t feel so oppressive now.


	22. Chapter 22

The question of what to do with Higgs Monaghan grows more uncertain with each passing day, the wild oscillations between mania and depression leave Sam with no real idea of how to proceed. It’s been a few months since his return from South Knot, and Sam hasn’t taken on any more orders since. He’s been too busy trying to understand Higgs, trying to help the man acclimate to being part of a community again. It hasn’t been easy. And he’s not sure if sharing a bed helps, or has just further thrown Higgs into some undesirable direction.

The access to the shelter Higgs had left him had given Sam a window into Higgs’ soul, into a man so much more complex than Sam could have imagined. It might have been easier if he’d remained the shallow villain.

_Peruse my secrets to your heart’s content._

And what secrets that shelter had revealed.

A man who utterly worshipped Amelie, who both despised Sam and couldn’t get him out of his head, who followed Sam closely on his entire journey. It still makes him shudder thinking about it, thinking about that spider’s web of pictures, of connections that only made sense to Higgs. How many times had Sam rested while on the road when Higgs was nearby, watching? Trying to start a fight or to kill him would have left him less unsettled than the idea that Higgs was always, always there, following him.

It was the journals he’d so obviously left for Sam that revealed things about the real man, and not the enemy created by the Extinction Entity to compel Sam forward, that had left the biggest impact on him. The mourning for a friend who was never named, not even in his journals, like maybe Higgs had never been very close to the man to begin with.

It’s not lost on him that Higgs had only named Fragile in his journal after he’d decided to betray her— his own decision or Amelie’s? Sam doesn’t think Higgs will ever know for sure. 

His obsession with Sam seemed rooted in intense jealously, that the first person to give him the attention he craved had her mind elsewhere at all times.

Yeah, Sam can relate to that. How long did he wish for Bridget’s attention, when she was too busy to give him the time of day? And then on the Beach, Amelie would be waiting for him, to hug him, comfort him, call herself his big sister, give all his loneliness and sorrow an outlet in the form of an ageless mother figure.

Fuck Bridget Strand. Fuck her monstrous experiments on babies, fuck her manipulation of human lives for her own gain, and especially fuck her for toying with the hearts of two broken, abused men who never had a chance to resist the call of the Extinction Entity.

The first person to reach Sam, to truly reach Sam, had been Lucy. He’d loved her, she’d loved him, and Bridget Strand couldn’t stand that.

And who was the first person to reach Higgs? Amelie, that’s who.

_This was your life, Higgs. Your tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and righteous fury… Signifying nothing._

There was a reason, after Sam left Bridges, that he never again spoke with Die-Hardman, except to make demands in Higgs’ memory, and to insist his own story was kept out of the history books as much as possible. After everything he learned, he couldn’t ever look the man in the eye again. He’d known so, so much, and had told Sam nothing. The betrayal had cut him as deeply as it had with Amelie.

It was only after Die-Hardman’s death that the others started reaching out for Sam— save for Deadman, who he always kept in contact with.

When Lockne learned the truth about what powered the network, she was horrified. What replaced the poor imprisoned babies worked, though part of Sam is aware that it could go disastrously wrong in a blink of an eye.

It’s such a closely guarded secret, Sam might very well be the only person left who knows about it.

With Higgs napping on the couch, Sam busies himself with work. The village doesn’t have a mayor, exactly, but Sam supposes due to seniority, the role fell to him some time ago. There’s always things that need doing; requisitioning supplies for the communal spaces, looking for plants for the greenhouse… 

Everything goes through him, unless individual shelters put in their own orders.

The good news is the village’s population is stable. Small, but stable. The bad news is the sudden, inexplicable increase in chiral storms in the area. The last BTs from the old city were all cut loose decades ago, and chiral storms are usually more predictable than this, even when they do bring in new BTs.

For a moment, he turns to gaze at Higgs, but the man is still asleep, using his hands as a pillow.

Not that this could be Higgs’ doing, anyway. Not when he’d risked his own life to save Sam from the shark, not when he’d bared his soul so openly to Sam. Higgs is many things, but he’s not a liar. He’s far too emotional to be capable of hiding something of this magnitude. 

So, that means there’s something else going on, something unknown. Sam can feel it in his bones. Humanity is living on borrowed time, he knows that, but he still can’t believe that this is the Final Stranding, it doesn’t feel like it.

But it’s _something,_ his gut tells him that much.

A few minutes later, dressed warmly, he steps outside. There’s no storm on the horizon today, but the cold air still does him some good every now and again. The chiral-covered sky is about as calm as it gets, and after everything that’s happened, it’s nice to have a break. Maybe he’ll actually get through the rest of the month without some sort of catastrophe happening. That would be nice.

“Sam?”

He turns, surprised to see Higgs awake, though thankfully dressed for the weather. “Just needed to step out, I’m not goin’ nowhere.”

Higgs moves so he’s beside him, staring out at the snow. “It’s actually a little pretty out here when it’s not covered in a timefall blizzard.”

“Yeah. I think so too. It’s still a little cold for me, though.”

“Why’d you decide to live here anyway?”

“Not many people live out here, outside of the city. All the other prepper communities are further south. It was a way to be left alone. Most of Bridges didn’t know I lived here for decades.”

By the dubious expression on his face, it’s clear Higgs doesn’t buy it. “But how? With you deliverin’ shit, they must have suspected.”

“I had a friend manufacture me some cuffs. Think he was the only person in Bridges who was ever completely honest with me. Helped me get this home, too, and start up the village.”

Higgs frowns, but doesn’t actually say anything immediately. “Bridges were nothing but a bunch of liars. Why trust any of them?”

“Because he helped me escape. I think he knew about Lou. That she was my daughter, I mean.”

The former herald apparently has nothing to say to that, so the two of them continue to stare off into the distance for a while.

“Do you ever imagine what it looks like?” Higgs asks quietly.

“What what looks like?” 

“The sky, without the chiral clouds. What it was like when there were normal clouds. Sure, there are movies and shit, but it ain’t the same. It ain’t seein’ things with your own two eyes.”

“Sometimes. Blue seems like a strange color for the sky. Do you think there are any other countries out there, surviving same as us?”

“Probably not,” Higgs says darkly, which isn’t a surprising response. “There used to be countries to the north and south of us; if they were really still around, we would’ve heard something by now. An expedition team, a voidout all close to the border. Somethin’, not complete silence.” Sam can’t bring himself to agree with Higgs’ pessimism, but he understands all too well where it’s coming from. 

Higgs touches him on the shoulder, a prolonged contact. Sam doesn’t mind it anymore, but he wonders when he’ll get used to Higgs’ paradoxical need for touch and hatred of not being the one to initiate it. 

“Ain’t ruinin’ the mood, I hope?”

“Nah. I knew you weren’t gonna give me a cheerful answer.”

“A while back, you said you were gonna tell me about that hurricane,” Higgs says, abruptly switching the topic as he lets go of Sam.

Sam swallows. “You really want to know?”

Higgs raises his brows. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know,” he says carefully.

“Fine,” Sam says. “But I’m gonna get us some whiskey. I can’t talk about this shit sober.”


	23. Chapter 23

After five glasses of whiskey between the two of them, both Higgs and Sam are slumped across the couch on either side, legs intertwined in a way that might bother him more were he sober, but as Higgs floats along on the buzz, he’s completely disinclined to detangle himself from Sam. It feels nice.

Then all of a sudden, Sam is pulling at his shirt, and it’s not so nice. “T’fuck’re you doin’?” Higgs slurs, trying, and failing, to sit up.

“Showin’ you something,” Sam says. He pulls it off, dropping it onto the floor without even looking at where it’s landed. On his abdomen is an enormous scar, a gigantic plus sign, stretching out to the top of his ribcage down to his pelvis, and along both his left and right side. Higgs has the urge to get his hands all over Sam, to feel that scar, touch the point dead center on his stomach where he should have a naval, but he feels so lazy and relaxed like this. He doesn’t want to move.

When Sam leans back onto the couch, the dogtags he’s always wearing jingle quietly.

“Fuck didja get that from? Repatriation heals all fatal wounds, don’t even get any scars from it.”

“Had it my whole damn life,” Sam says, somehow sounding more sober than Higgs feels. Like they can read each other’s thoughts, he takes a deep drink from his glass. “Until Bridget started givin’ me the fuckin’ ‘talk’ I thought everyone looked like me, with the scar. Turns out, it’s pretty fuckin’ much just me!”

Higgs says nothing right away, because even now he can’t bring himself to disparage Her. “I want to touch it,” he says instead.

Sam looks at him like he’s trying to figure out if Higgs is being serious or not, but appears to shrug it off after a moment. “’nyway, I’m sure you’ve hearda the first BB experiments, that voided out an entire city, killin’ the President before Bridget?”

“Think everyone’s heard that story.”

“The story goes, the BB experiments were banned after that. But it was all fuckin’ bullshit.”

“Knew that too.” Sam glares at him, and Higgs decides shutting up is a better idea than talking.

“The experiments don’t go away under her. They ramp up, because Bridget Strand does whatever the fuck she wants,” Sam growls. “One day, a pregnant woman falls seriously ill. Lisa, her name is. Her husband is desperate to save her, and their kid.” He punctuates this with a deep drink from his glass. “Bridget come along, offers to help him.”

Higgs isn’t sure what this has to do with the weird chiral storm, but doesn’t ask.

“So he signs them over. Told his wife is braindead, but maybe they can help her. The unborn baby is put into a pod. A BB pod, kept like that for _six years._ ”

He doesn’t like where this story is going. More alcohol will solve that problem, so he takes a drink of his own. 

“The man, Cliff, he ain’t stupid. He gets help, from someone on the inside. Maybe the guy finally grew a conscience, I dunno. Don’t like thinkin’ about it too much. There’s nothin’ he can do for his wife, so Cliff shoots her, to set her free. Takes his kid and runs.”

Yeah, Higgs _definitely_ doesn’t like where this story is going. The anxiety gnawing at him is overriding the pleasant buzz from the whiskey.

“Bridget catches him. Of course she does. She orders the insider to shoot Cliff, and then he just…” Sam’s eyes go far away. Higgs swallows. “When they take the pod back from him, he calls out to his son. Just… reaches out. ‘n his son reaches back, an infant usin’ DOOMS to leave the pod, to be with his father.” He grabs the entire whiskey bottle to take a drink from it, his glass empty. “And then they’re both shot dead.”

“Fuck,” is all Higgs can say.

“Bridget can’t have her fucking plans ruined. She takes advantage of her powers, her Ha and Ka being separate. When the baby washes up on the Beach, she cuts him off entirely from the cycle of life and death, tosses him into the Seam. And then his father proceeds to spend eternity on a Beach of his own, searching for his lost son, unable to rest.”

Higgs manages to wrench himself into a half-seated position, staring at Sam. He can’t say anything. What the fuck do you say to something like that?

Sam leans into his space, looking like he’s seconds away from tears. Higgs isn’t certain if he’s crying himself. “And that’s how the Death Stranding was brought upon the world.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, Sam so close to him, not giving him the crawling, uncomfortable sensation. Higgs moves without thinking about it, grabbing Sam by the shoulders and pulling him on top, so he’s blanketing Higgs, and then their lips are pressed together, full of want and need. Sam’s fingers are suddenly in Higgs’ hair, and he doesn’t mind at all.

It starts out tender, and then it twists into frantic desire; open-mouthed and desperate. Higgs has never wanted to kiss someone before, but every fiber of his being is telling him this is right. He moans, honest to God moans, against Sam’s mouth. Their tongues twining together, clinging, almost fighting, and when the kiss finally breaks, they’re both out of breath.

The alcohol is still muddling Higgs’ thinking, but even now he has to admit this can’t be a fantasy; Sam drunkenly confessing to being the source of the Death Stranding to the herald of death isn’t something he could ever come up with. Which means it’s real, all of it is fuckin’ real, and the hurricane that sucked Sam from the sky was his daddy, reaching out for him. Is he still on the Beach, even now?

Fuck.

Sam lays on him, and it’s such a foreign feeling, but not uncomfortable. Higgs reaches for the dogtags, and when Sam doesn’t stop him, he stares at them for a long time. Most of the information doesn’t mean anything to him; he’s the furthest thing from military, being a former porter, but the name stamped into the tags, _Clifford Unger_ , certainly stands out.


	24. Chapter 24

Somehow, they both end up in Higgs’ bed again tonight. When was the last time Sam used his own bed, anyway? Not that Higgs minds. He’s sobered up a little, but he doesn’t want to think about the implications of everything right now. Sam is so close to him, and physical contact keeps the hollowness away. They don’t kiss again; there’s no one throwing the other into the bed like a terrible romance novel, they just hold each other as Higgs drifts off. 

His dream is incoherent, aimless. He stands atop his old shelter outside of Lake Knot, staring off into where the ruins of Middle Knot should be visible, but he’s unable to see anything. It’s like someone took a giant sheet and covered the entire area; dark, indistinct.

It feels off and wrong in a way he can’t articulate, so Higgs jumps off the roof and starts towards the ruins of the shopping mall. 

The rain falls as he approaches, but there are no BTs. 

A shame, because he could use a boost right about now, to tear a BT or four from its tether to this side, and absorb that chiral energy that comes with it. It’s not nearly as effective as creating bodies himself, but he has no reason to do that. So he walks, and even when he’s just outside of the shopping mall— what should be the shopping mall’s ruins, but it’s all unclear— he can’t sense any BTs at all. It makes his nerves go into overdrive. They’re still here; they have to be. He’d know, considering it’s his fault they’re here in the first place.

Sure, Fragile was the one to deliver the bomb, but it was all Higgs’ doing, in the end. His crimes, his soul that was stained with blood.

He crouches down low, walking slowly and clumsily, his left hand hovering over his mouth.

Still no BTs, not even the prickling sensation he got when he was younger, when all he could do was sense them, long before he could see them.

He comes to the clearing, where the actual city once stood, and a woman stands in the rain, completely uncovered, and acting like the timefall doesn’t affect her. Ridiculous, because timefall ruins everything it touches. 

The woman turns, and it’s Fragile. She looks old, like she does in all of Sam’s pictures. “You’re such a bastard, Higgs,” she says, and then she’s gone.

He’s suddenly, without warning, somewhere else entirely. The hot spring outside of the shelter of the man who called himself the Film Director. Higgs has been here before, lazing in the rare moments he was able to push everything from his mind as herald. He strips without thinking about it, his normal clothes replaced by the armor he used to wear a lifetime ago. His skin is still covered scars; the injuries he got when he was so very young, and some of the ones that are more recent, too.

Handprints litter Higgs’ body, not so different from Sam’s. But unlike Sam, his wrap around him, around his arms and legs, around the back of his neck and shoulders. Like the BTs had gripped at him, tugging at his body to get his attention. Demanding to be seen. It’s a marred, ugly body he has. He thinks of Sam, of how he carries himself, hiding that scar from most of the world. The scar that the angel of death Herself had given him. He still manages to be better looking than Higgs.

It’s why Higgs hides his face. That ugly, twisted façade that always tells people what’s on his mind. Especially when he wants them to stay away. 

He settles into the hot spring, feeling nothing. It’s not warm, it’s not wet. There’s not even the familiar smell of sulfur. It’s just… nothing. 

“You always wanted to be someone,” he says to the air. “Now you’re nobody.”

Sam is suddenly there, with him in the hot spring. Completely naked, save for those dogtags. Higgs starts, ready to escape the spring, even if that will involve showing Sam everything. But then Sam’s right hand is on him, against the side of his face, and Higgs sees the tattoo on it for only a moment before Sam kisses him. It lacks the frenetic energy of their first kiss. It’s sweet, tender, and as he pulls away, Higgs wakes.

There are tears streaked down his face, and he looks down at his pillow, disgruntled to see tar tears staining it, too. 

The sharp, throbbing pain in his head draws him back to the present. Fuck, he drank too much last night. Mentally cursing the fact that repatriation isn’t anything like the immortality of fiction, he stands, making sure his pajamas cover him completely. If he was the fun kind of immortal, he wouldn’t be getting splitting headaches from drinking too much, and he wouldn’t be left with the thoughts that liver failure would be an especially horrible way to die.

“Mornin’,” Sam says from the kitchen. He looks Higgs over, clearly seeing the tears streaked on his face, but saying nothing. “You want some coffee?”

Higgs wonders if Sam’ll bring up the kiss, or if they’ll pretend it never happened. He could always act like he was too drunk to remember last night. Sam would let him get away with it. “Sure,” he says.

They sit for a while on the couch, Higgs’ legs up on the cushion, trying to make himself as small as possible, when he’s quite a bit bigger than the man he’s living with. He’s not weak and shaky right now, but he holds his mug with both hands close to his chest anyway.

“I wanted to thank you,” Sam begins, staring at his own empty mug instead of Higgs, “for listening to me last night. I… haven’t told anyone about it, before.”

“Nobody?” Higgs asks, not looking at Sam.

“Nobody.”

He braces himself for the rejection to come, for the words ‘the kiss was a mistake’ to leave Sam’s lips, but he doesn’t say anything else. It’s like maybe _he’s_ the one who doesn’t remember, maybe _he’s_ the one pretending nothing happened at all. Higgs closes the space between him and Sam, resting his head against Sam’s shoulder.

He needs this so badly right now, he doesn’t know what would happen if Sam pushed him away, if Sam rejected him.

But Sam doesn’t. He doesn’t. He tips his head against Higgs’ instead, not saying anything.

They’re so close the clawing emptiness in his chest isn’t there at all.

“About last night,” Higgs begins. “That… other thing.”

Sam doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t pull away from Higgs either, craning his head to look at the other man.

“I... I don’t… I want. I mean, I…” he’s never even attempted anything like this before. Never in his life. There had been one time where, maybe, _maybe_ he would have, but he’d destroyed all chances of that himself before it even got off the ground.

Sam watches him patiently, not saying anything.

“You ‘n me,” Higgs finishes lamely. It’s much too vague, but he honestly doesn’t know how to begin to talk about what he’s feeling.

He just wants Sam. Shouldn’t that be enough?

“Together, you mean?”

“I want to be with you.” Higgs touches at the horrible spot in his chest that itches constantly with one hand, trying to understand why it’s not uncomfortable now.

Sam doesn’t respond right away. “Think we’ve been together for a while,” he murmurs. He can’t be talking about the same thing Higgs is.

It stings like rejection. Higgs opens his mouth to say something, anything, but he can’t speak. And then Sam is looking at him with his brows knitted together again, that unreadable expression of his that Higgs doesn’t understand. “I didn’t mean,” he begins, and then he’s touching Higgs with his right hand, the way he did in his dream. “People who are just friends don’t usually share a bed like we do. Definitely don’t make out on a couch.”

“Oh,” Higgs says. This suddenly feels unreal. 

Sam moves in closer to his space, intent telegraphed and obvious. They kiss, softly and sweet, and when it’s over, they stay exactly where they are.

“I think we should take it slow,” Sam says quietly. “I haven’t been with anyone since Lucy.”

“I’ve never been with anyone,” Higgs admits. “With Fragile, I might’ve, but there ain’t shit I can do about that now, is there?”

Sam laces their fingers together, and Higgs is so shocked at how well they fit together, he doesn’t remember what he’s about to say next. “Good reason not to rush into this, then,” Sam murmurs.

“The idea of sex repulses me,” Higgs blurts.

Sam laughs, startled. It’s not a mean laugh. Higgs wishes it was. “I hear that’s pretty common, these days,” he says. “Been that way since the Stranding happened.” He doesn’t say anything else, and Higgs doesn’t speak, either. 

It feels too good to be true, but all Higgs wants to do now more than ever is believe this is real.


	25. Chapter 25

Sam isn’t sure he could have predicted the last twenty-four hours; they don’t exactly seem real. The Higgs he’s been living with isn’t the same man who fought him all those years ago. He doesn’t go on grandiose speeches, but will still fill the silence every so often when it’s clear he’s uncomfortable. 

If Sam had brought him back sooner, would he be more like himself? Or is _this_ the real Higgs, this subdued man who hates himself? It’s… not something he’s really wanted to consider. Higgs had been brimming with confidence and arrogance, self-assured and aggrandized. He’d owned his own porter company before meeting Fragile, and then convinced her to join forces with him in an effort to help more people; all this before the Extinction Entity had wormed herself into Higgs’ mind.

It reminds him of something Lucy had told him all those years ago, about how trauma can change a man. Sam is quite possibly the worst judge for this kind of thing, though, and he doesn’t think Higgs is any better.

They’re two lonely men who have been stranded somewhere between ambivalence and terror at the idea of letting someone, anyone, in. Sam has never wanted to let anybody know just how broken he is.

Higgs, thankfully, seems to have come out of whatever bout of self-loathing he was in with the admission that Sam feels the same way he does— whatever that means, exactly, Sam is still working on. He’ll think about it later, when he’ll maybe have the time to deeply consider why Higgs fucking Monaghan is the person easing that loneliness in him in a way only Lucy had succeeded at before.

The man is currently flipping through what looks like an extremely boring medical textbook, but he seems as fascinated by it as he does every other book Sam has seen him read.

Sam watches the Chiral monitors, spending a while looking at the weather predictions for the region as he looks at all the different readings for the area. There are still places where BTs seem to gather, but there are also places where they only appear when there’s heavy rain. The blots of blue show those off, but the further south the readings go, the less they make sense.

There’s a large cluster of red spots near the old volcano observatory, something Sam has only seen a few times before— it means there’s an error in the weather pattern reading. The software doesn’t know what to make of what it’s seeing. It’s not good, especially in a BT hotspot so close to the tar belt. 

“Fuckin’ A,” Sam mutters to himself, rubbing his face in his hands.

“Hmm? Something wrong?”

“Weird readings on the weather radar. Could be nothin’ could be somethin’, only one way to know for sure.”

Higgs approaches, peering over Sam’s shoulder curiously. “Should be pretty easy for you to go check, shouldn’t it? Pop in and out of there; no fuss no muss.” 

“No,” Sam sighs. “It’s not that simple. That’s in the middle of nowhere; preppers don’t even live out there anymore. There’s nothing tying me to the area; I’d have to walk all the way there.”

“Oh,” Higgs says.

“I’m not like you or Fragile,” Sam says with a shrug.

Higgs gives him a long look. “I can’t use the Beach on my own,” he says. “That was Her doing. The stronger my connection to death, the more my DOOMS grows, but I don’t know how much of that I could get back. I don’t even know if killin’ BTs would bring any of it back.”

…Right. He thinks he knew that, at one point. It all happened so long ago; it’s become hard to remember. “…That’s why you couldn’t leave the Beach,” Sam says quietly.

Higgs doesn’t respond, but Sam doesn’t need him to.

“We should get going. Radar seems to think it’s gonna be headed right towards Mountain Knot in a few days.” He stands, already heading towards the fabricator. 

“’We’?” Higgs looks like he’s convinced he’s misheard Sam. 

“Yeah, Higgs. It’s a long way off, and if shit goes south, it’s better if we’re both around.”

Higgs clenches at his teeth, and for a moment Sam thinks he’s going to refuse, and Sam is going to need to force him to come along, but after a moment he shrugs. “Why not,” he sighs. “I played the villain, why not try the sidekick on for a change?”

“I’m not askin’ you to play a role, I’m asking you to come with me and make sure giant BTs aren’t going to come by and knock the entire village over.” Higgs sure knows how to be irritating, even when he’s not busy feeling sorry for himself. 

Higgs, it seems, is wise enough not to start shit about this, instead asking a question. “How do you use the Beach, anyway?”

Sam turns to look at Higgs for a moment, before he gets the printer ready to fabricate the weapons he thinks they’ll need. “I think the easiest way to describe it would be to say I bounce off of it. I don’t exactly end up on it; the only time I ever actually found myself on the Beach was with…” he cuts himself off. “Well, yours was the first one I’d seen in a long time.”

“Why do you even need me to come with you at all?” Back to being suspicious, then. Whatever.

“Because you still have powers over the dead, don’t you? You could… I dunno. Figured you could talk to ‘em or something.”

“That’s not how it works,” Higgs mutters, even as he starts to dress in layers for their trek outside. “I can’t talk to them, and don’t understand nothin’ they’re saying that the shrieking doesn’t already indicate.” 

So much for that theory. Not much of a speaker of the dead, if you can’t actually talk to them at all. “How does it work, then?”

The printer nosily starts fabricating their equipment, but Sam ignores it in favor of listening to Higgs.

Higgs frowns, looking so very old all of a sudden. “I… I can feel it, when a BT is about to pop from a body. There’s power in it, so much power. I take hold of it, pull, and flood it into me. Make it a part of me.” And then he shrugs, eyes glittering, a smirking mask on his lips; deceptively carefree. “Makes for a good party trick.”

“How do you touch a BT without triggering a voidout?”

“The mist.”

Sam flashes back to how Higgs killed the shark, to even longer ago when he summoned a catcher to attack Sam at Port Knot. Not Amelie’s powers, then; something different. “So, you, what, turn yourself into a BT to attack them?”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it. Don’t know if there’s a better explanation.” 

“What’s it do to the BTs you grab?”

“Dunno. What does your blood do to the BTs you shoot with hematic rounds?”

Sam doesn’t respond. Mostly because he thinks he understands the point Higgs is making. Either way, they’re sending BTs off to the other side.

**

When they’re finally both ready, packed with enough supplies to last them for the duration of the trip, Sam glances at Higgs. His expression is hard to read, but he’s dressed in a porter jumpsuit like he must have worn an entire lifetime ago, and doesn’t actually look too bothered about carrying a week’s worth of things and weapons on his back, either.

Sure, he doesn’t have nearly as much as Sam stacked on his back, but it’s more than Sam thought Higgs would be willing to carry. 

“You ready?”

Higgs gives an exaggerated bow. “Lead the way.”


	26. Chapter 26

Higgs isn’t entirely certain why he agreed to this.

The idea of being stuck in the shelter alone again terrifies him, but he’s not a damn porter, hasn’t been for goddamn years, hasn’t been since Amelie showed Herself to him, convinced him all he needed to unite the country was Her. Sure, technically, they’re not delivering things to anyone, they’re off far to the south where nothing grows in order to check out something that isn’t even going to be a problem. Computers break; they’re unreliable as shit, that’s why Higgs did so much of his work on an ancient laptop and didn’t rely on the computers in the shelter. That thing had survived the goddamn apocalypse. He kind of misses it.

When he’d followed Sam as the herald, the man always seemed lost in his own head, occasionally murmuring something to the BB on his chest, but for the most part he was silent.

Sam is still pretty quiet, but he keeps talking to Higgs, saying things just for the sake of saying them. It’s a little stilted, like he’s not used to it, but Sam is making an active effort.

Not that Higgs is one to judge.

“I haven’t been down this way in a long time,” Sam says, his voice distant, like he’s thinking about something else entirely. “The only people out there were scientists studying the area. It’s a hotspot for fossilized Strandings, apparently. But after a while, it became too dangerous for anyone to be researching the area. Nobody lives there now, not even MULEs or terrorists.” 

Interesting. “So your solution is to send a porter and a former terrorist to the area?”

“Ain’t no one crazier than a porter,” Sam says so soberly, Higgs laughs.

“I think that’s just you, Sammy.”

They fall silent— the snow is so deep, and the mountains steep enough they need to concentrate more than banter. He remembers watching Sam clamber through these mountains, up and down, all over the place in order to help the handful of people crazy enough to live on steep slopes. To Higgs, it seemed pretty clear that the preppers wanted to be left the fuck alone, but that didn’t stop Sam from delivering them mail anyway.

Once they’ve reached stable ground again, Sam speaks up. “I’ve been wondering what would happen if the Homo Demens found out that you’re still around. Haven’t heard from them in a long, long time, but I doubt they’re gone.”

Higgs doesn’t understand the train of thought. “Why would they care if I’m still around? Ain’t like they’d know who I am.”

“Weren’t you their leader?”

“No,” Higgs says incredulously, staring at Sam. “I was a mouthpiece. They followed me because I followed Her. They were around long before I first met Her. Used to rub me the wrong way, the way they’d desecrate corpses.” 

Sam stops dead in his tracks, hot breath visible against the cold air. “You destroyed entire cities. The hell do you care about their tactics?”

“That was,” he begins, but realizes he has no answer. Can’t defend his actions at all. So he says nothing more on the subject. “Point is, if they are still around, they’ll have no interest in me, and I don’t want nothin’ to do with them.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, but he starts walking again, and motions for Higgs to follow him. They walk in complete silence, for close to an hour. Every step he takes, Higgs is aware of how fucking cold he feels. In the shelter it was warm and cozy, out here it’s freezing and uncomfortable, and on the Beach he didn’t feel anything at all.

He brushes a hand against one of the thermal pads on his hips, can feel the heat work its way through his fingers. And Sam Porter Bridges moves like he doesn’t feel the cold.

“You know,” Sam says after a while. It’s probably been a couple of hours. “You were the only one who was completely honest with me. ‘Sides Deadman, but I never learned his real name.”

Deadman? Bridges and their goddamn nicknames.

“Nearly everyone else insistent upon codenames, putting masks on to keep people away, keep their _allies_ away. Like they were playing spies and not trying to rebuild a goddamn country. But you… first thing you do is tell me your name. Your real name. You told me the truth about Amelie, too.”

“I had my role to play; there was no sense lyin’. I don’t care for it, ‘nyway.”

“Kinda funny, that my enemy was the one who was always truthful. Nobody else fucking was.”

Higgs gives Sam a long look. The more he hears Sam talk about Bridges, the more he suspects the guy hates the entire fucking organization. If there was one thing his daddy taught him right, it was to never trust government.

“I’m not your enemy no more, I hope,” he says, and winces at how much it gives away.

“Of course not,” Sam says, sounding genuinely annoyed. Higgs looks up at him, and is surprised at the frown on Sam’s face. The way those blue eyes narrow at him. “Come on, we have more ground to cover before we reach the porter shelter for the night.”

**

They’re still atop the goddamn snowy mountains by the time they arrive at the shelter Sam had apparently been eyeing for them. The computer chirps out a “Porter Delivery Service IDs verified”, before the elevator descends and allows them inside. The room is small, and the bed doesn’t quite look like it’s meant for two people, but it’s warm. Even if it’s not as warm as home— fuck, Sam’s shelter.

Higgs wastes no time lounging in one of the small chairs set against an equally small table. The beer left out is no surprise, but he is a little surprised at the complete lack of a kitchenette in the room. Seems like porters are meant to remember to bring things they don’t need to cook, when hiding out in one of these halfway homes. 

There’s no bathtub, which annoys him, but then again, he wasn’t exactly expecting one, either.

“You want to use the shower first?” Sam asks.

“You go ahead,” Higgs says, grabbing one of the cans of beer and turning away as Sam starts to strip out of his clothes. They share a bed, sure, but Higgs has still never seen Sam naked anywhere other than the waist up, and Higgs doesn’t want Sam seeing him naked anywhere.

When he hears the water turn on, he pulls the tab on the beer. “What’re we doin’ about supper?” he asks, staring at the Chiral screen so he doesn’t have to look at Sam. It still tastes watered down and terrible, but booze is booze.

“One of the containers in my pack has an electric stove in it, and a couple pans. Heat up whatever you’d like,” Sam says over the roar of the shower.

It’d be a friendly offer, if Higgs had even the faintest idea how to operate the damn thing. He pulls out a can of soup, because it seems to be the easiest thing to cook, and stares at the pot and stove. Sam joins him a few minutes later, dressed in warm-looking pajamas instead of his compression suit as Higgs is still trying to figure out how the hell to even turn the damn stove on.

“Go on and take a shower, I’ll heat it up for us.”

Higgs hesitates, because the idea of Sam seeing him naked makes him feel incredibly queasy, but Sam doesn’t look up at him again, back turned to Higgs as he gets the stove working, popping the lid off the soup. Higgs makes sure his nightclothes are right next to the shower before he pulls the coat off, the jumpsuit and clothes beneath it. Without the layers on, he looks so incredibly thin, even to himself. 

The shower itself isn’t nearly as nice as the one Sam has; it’s clearly not meant for a guy to enjoy some time to himself with a built-in timer for the water. Then again, he’s not so sure this shelter is actually meant for more than one person to begin with. 

At least Sam isn’t looking in his direction, which means there’s no way he’s going to see the scars on Higgs’ body, isn’t going to see the patchwork of handprints stained on his skin. About the only place that isn’t completely marred is the space between his navel and pelvis, as if the BTs were too polite to touch a man in such a vulnerable area. He leans heavily against the wall, letting the hot water run down his back.

He’s not cut out for this, doesn’t trust himself not to fuck it all up.

He _had_ been that person willing to do anything for other people, that had been his whole reasoning for teaming up with Fragile. Her powers were incredible, she could do so much; bring him anywhere, to reach so many more people than he and his handful of guys could do on their own. They could have brought the country together; not in the way the UCA wanted it, no. Rules and stifling laws wouldn’t have suited him. Personal freedom, that’s what he’d wanted— people helping others because they wanted to, not because they were being told to.

And then Amelie had wormed Her way into his heart, convinced him all he really needed was Her, Her power, and all of a sudden helping people to continue to live their lives had become hopelessly futile. It had been more merciful to kill them all to save them from the knowledge of the unstoppable force that was the Final Stranding.

Even now, he doesn’t see a point. Her love for Sam might have bought humanity an extra century, but you can’t delay the inevitable, and there’s nothing more inevitable and certain than Death Herself. 

He can feel the sticky tar tears on his face, and wipes at them with the back of his hand. He really can’t look like a mess around Sam.

When he finally steps out of the shower, he doesn’t feel any cleaner, but he’s at least fairly certain he’s stopped crying.


	27. Chapter 27

The soup isn’t so bad, honestly. The metallic taste of the can isn’t so present in it, but then again, that could be because Higgs is hungry enough he doesn’t care. The Chiral screen in here is so much bigger than the one at home that he’s not surprised when Sam suggests watching a movie. They move the chairs so they’re right next to each other, close enough they’re able to lean against the other, and Sam doesn’t protest when Higgs rests his legs on his lap.

The movie they settle on is chosen half-jokingly by Higgs, entirely because it has the word “prophecies” in the title, but it’s honestly something of a letdown. There’s nothing high-octane about it, and there’s certainly no religious ferocity to it. It’s a dreary old movie about a man grieving his wife, and the strange, unearthly events that seem to follow him. 

They watch it, mostly in silence, except for Higgs’ occasional complaint about the plot. Sam huffs a laugh, maybe because he’s noticed the tells of when Higgs is actually enjoying a story.

There’s something strange, but maybe not surprising, about how the film overlaps with his own life. Something unknowable bringing people together, something powerful neither of them even attempt to understand at all.

Yeah, he knows where they’re coming from. 

It surprises him, but it really shouldn’t, when Sam leans in to kiss him as the film ends. It’s soft at first, gentle, and then Sam’s swiping his tongue against Higgs’ lips, and he parts them, eagerly welcoming the deepened kiss. Sam half carries him to bed, and Higgs goes completely willingly, legs spread apart as Sam settles on top of him, their kisses hot, and his hands make their way to Sam’s head, fingers in his long hair.

Higgs is distantly aware of the little noises he’s making, the soft, breathy moans, all eager and wanting.

The closeness, the physical contact, it’s pretty fucking fantastic. He’s fairly sure he could do this forever.

Sam is the one to break the kiss, when they’re both completely out of breath, rolling onto his side next to Higgs, his expression gentle. Higgs doesn’t think he’ll get used to it.

“I want to touch you,” Higgs whispers. “Get my hands all over your scar.” He doesn’t mean it in a sexual way; just wants to touch it, to feel the flesh that stitched itself back together. It looks a little like a body splayed open from an autopsy, like the pictures in the medical books he’s looked through. Back in the day when people cared to learn how a person died, and didn’t try and dispose of the body as quickly as possible. Certainly not something that’s done on a living body, and certainly not something a man is meant to survive even if it is.

It feels like he’s asking for something forbidden. He shouldn’t want anything, should be grateful for what he’s given, but then Sam rolls onto his back without hesitation. “You can touch,” he says, looking at Higgs. There’s so much trust in his eyes. Higgs climbs on top of him, almost seated on Sam, and slowly unbuttons Sam’s nightshirt. 

“Fuck,” Higgs says, when he tugs it open, leans down to kiss at one of the pale handprints staining Sam’s skin. The little noise that escapes Sam is so appealing, Higgs does it again, pressing the kisses lower and lower, until they reach his prominent scar. He wonders how many people have seen it; how many people have asked about it. 

Higgs is probably the only person who knows how Sam got it. It makes him feel a swell of pride at the idea, that this secret of Sam’s is now his as well. He traces his fingers along it, the slightly raised skin of the scar tissue against smooth, normal skin. Sam’s face twitches, and Higgs jerks his hand to pull away, but is stopped by a hand around his wrist. “Just tickles a little,” Sam murmurs, urging him to continue.

Any more touching, and it could probably result in… other things, things Higgs doesn’t intend, so after a few more seconds of curious looking, he lays back down next to Sam. Sam doesn’t immediately cover himself back up, the way Higgs is expecting. 

Higgs doesn’t thank Sam, because it doesn’t seem appropriate, but he’s not sure what to say now. He certainly can’t return the favor, can’t expose himself in such a way. Has never shown himself, his true, real self, to anyone. He’s a forty-year-old man, for fuck’s sake, but the blind panic that it would set off would completely ruin the easy, quiet mood they’ve found themselves in.

Wait, no, not forty. Sam said it’s been ninety-eight years. One hundred and thirty-eight? Fuck, he doesn’t like that number at all. Forty it is.

“You all right? You’re awfully quiet, even for you.”

“Just thinking,” Higgs murmurs.

“About?”

He’s not used to this, to people talking to him, to wanting to know about him. Even now, when he’s lived with Sam for— how long have they lived together? Six months? Longer?— he’s not sure what to do with it. It’s strange to think about. “What are we, Sam?”

Sam turns to him, looking at him with that gentle expression. “What do you want us to be?” He doesn’t deserve this, that look aimed at him. 

“I don’t know.”

“Still time to take it slow,” Sam says carefully. “No need to rush into anything.” 

He doesn’t deserve Sam Bridges. “But,” he begins, unwilling to believe this is real. “We’ve…”

“It’s only been a day. Give yourself time.”

Right. It _has_ only been one day. He’s so used to being lost in his own head, had done it for so long when he had nothing else to do. He reaches out to touch Sam on the shoulder, to pull him closer even though there’s barely any space between them. The mattress is so small, barely big enough for the two of them. The sheets are thin, and the pillows are uncomfortable, but this is _real_. 

He’s really here, with Sam Bridges, with the man he hasn’t been able to get out of his head for a long, long time. None of it may feel right, especially pretending to be a porter. Some hero protecting people from the unknown. But _Sam_ feels right.

“Think I’m gonna turn in,” Sam says with a yawn. “Night, Higgs.” And just like that, he’s out. Higgs marvels at how easily the man can fall asleep, no effort needed at all. His breathing slow and even, like he has no troubles at all. Higgs turns on his side, back pressed against Sam’s chest. This connection, this strand, binding them together…

He thinks he could get used to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The film](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mothman_Prophecies_\(film\)) they watch is the polar opposite of an exciting horror movie.


	28. Chapter 28

They’re slow getting started the next morning. Despite the ticking clock that is the immense chiral storm, and the fact that they have another day before they reach the area they’re headed towards— and quite possibly another day after that, where Sam is going to need to fabricate a shelter for them, because there’s no way anything has survived out there so long after the area was left to be reclaimed by the wilderness— he’s honestly not in much of a hurry.

Higgs looks so languid and relaxed, lazing stretched out on the bed.

Still staying put, even as Sam starts getting ready for the next leg of their journey. He’d be annoyed, if he hadn’t been expecting Higgs to take his time. “You want a granola bar?” Sam asks him, when it’s clear Higgs is going to be staying there for exactly as long as he can get away with. 

“What, no time for a home-cooked breakfast today?” Higgs drawls lazily.

“Oh, we’ve got time for that,” Sam shoots back. “The carton of eggs is right next to my spare bola, fish it out for me.” Higgs _laughs_ , and finally stands up, straightening himself out.

Sam dumps all the weapons that aren’t hematic-usable into recycle. They won’t need anything else around here, when not even MULEs are willing to go towards the dead volcano. He’s heard whispers from porters who have ventured near it, about how it’s supposedly haunted— Sam has never believed in ghosts, not the kind he thinks they’re talking about, anyway. Spooks in haunted houses don’t frighten you at all when you’ve seen what the stranded dead actually look like, are actually capable of.

Not when you learn you spent your entire life being told a lie, being manipulated by something beyond comprehension wearing human skin.

He doesn’t plan on checking out the rumors of ghosts unless it happens to align with the very real chiral storm.

Sam hands Higgs his granola bar, and the man grins at him, looking bright and young.

“Careful,” Sam says. “You’re not getting another one until noon.”

“Breakfast for lunch?” Higgs gasps, clutching at his chest. It’s not even a good attempt at feigning shock, since he’s still smirking. “Sam Porter Bridges, you’re a rebel.”

Sam finds himself laughing despite himself. 

The fabricator doesn’t entirely have what they’ll need to resupply, but Sam takes the opportunity to print up some more gear anyway. The skeletons that attach to their jumpsuits are badly in need of replacement, and having a few more thermal pads sounds like a great idea. 

Higgs makes quick work of the granola bar, and suits up with more efficiency than he had yesterday. Sam knows he’s not eager to leave the shelter, but it’s something. He’s taking it seriously, despite Higgs’ reluctance to do anything even approaching his original job.

“You ready?” Sam asks as the printer finishes off the last of its orders, attaching two spare batteries to his backpack. He doesn’t feel ready himself, to head off into the unknown again.

Higgs makes a face, even as he attaches warm thermal pads to the slots on his shoulders. “Not sure anyone’s ready for as much snow as we’ve got on the surface.”

“The sooner we get out there, the sooner we’ll be finished with the damn mountain,” Sam says with a shrug. Higgs’ expression is still sour, but Sam doesn’t care about that right now. They have a job to do, and Sam can’t help imagine the sort of called he’d get from Bridges, if this had happened while he was working for them, trekking from one end of the country to the other, with a half forgotten tune stuck in his head, and his back carrying so much weight it swayed him unsteadily side-to-side with every step he took.

The elevator ascends, taking them to the surface, and though he’d been out here just yesterday, the cold air still shocks him. It’s a wakeup call more effective than coffee.

“I don’t much care for this weather,” Higgs grumbles under his breath, as they’re both alerted by the bleep of their sensors announcing the presence of timefall. Both their hoods automatically slide up their heads, and Higgs huffs a little laugh at the squeak of Sam’s otter hood. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever saw,” he says. “Where the hell did you get it?”

“Prepper gave it to me.”

“Was he making fun of you?”

“Nah. It’s good quality, too. Haven’t worn it in a long while, but it still gets the job done. Thing’s damn near a hundred years old.”

Higgs looks doubtful, but doesn’t argue. “I used to get things from preppers,” he says instead. His gaze is downcast, at the snow instead of Sam. “When I was a kid, they usually gave me food. Sometimes I got shelter for the night.”

“Nice of ‘em. You were pretty young to be hiking through dangerous territory for deliveries.”

“I suppose. I was only ever doin’ my part. People aren’t meant to be alone; it does shit to them.” Higgs looks up to the sky, and Sam wonders if he’s talking about himself. “So I brought them supplies, was a friendly face. Mail is one thing, not completely alone that way, but talkin’ face to face is somethin’ else entirely.” He goes quiet after that, adjusting the straps of his backpack.

They walk for nearly an hour in complete silent before Higgs speaks again. “Sam… is your daddy… is he still on the Beach?”

“No,” Sam says. So much is uncertain, so many things he doesn’t understand or never got the answers to, but he knows that much. “He found himself, when he met me. Think it’s safe to say he was proud.” His left hand clutches at the dogtags. A part of him, a large part of him, mourns that childhood he never had. “Guess I saved him. I didn’t even mean to.”

“I wonder what it’s like, the other side.”

“Wouldn’t know.”

“I like to think there isn’t anything. No thoughts, no troubles. No pain. Nothin’. S’posedly, that ‘light’ people see as they die is just the brain shuttin’ down. Don’t work so well for repatriates; ain’t ever seen a light.” 

How often do Higgs’ thoughts turn to death? Sam wonders if a man always connected to it, always aware of it, thinks of it constantly. Something he can’t turn off. It seems possible. Probable, even.

“Sounds lonely,” Sam says.

“I think it’d be peaceful.”

Sam looks at him, but Higgs is still staring at the ground more than anything else. At least he’s not wearing the damn gasmask, so Sam can see his face, see his eyes. “Hope you’re not tryin’ to tell me something,” he says seriously. Not that they can stay permanently dead. But death still hurts, every fucking time. It has never, ever, been something Sam sought out intentionally. 

“No, no.” Higgs still isn’t looking at him. “Just runnin’ my mouth. Pay me no mind.”

Sam approaches him, taking his chances at putting a hand on Higgs’ shoulder. As he suspected, Higgs doesn’t even tense. “I’m here for you, you know.”

Higgs doesn’t say anything right away. “I know,” he says, an invisible mask on his face, hiding his thoughts. 

**

Eventually, the snow turns to stone and dirt. The lower altitude brings with it a slightly warmer temperature, and the unseen sun starts to fall low in the sky. Sam brings the radar up on his cufflinks. The red blob hasn’t moved much at all, but that’s really not a surprise given the fact that timefall is almost constant not much further south. 

“We should stop here for the night,” Sam says. “Doesn’t matter if you can see ‘em or not, BTs are almost completely invisible in the dark.” He pulls the PCC from his back, sets it to print out a safehouse, and steps back. 

“Isn’t that Bridges technology?” Higgs grumbles.

“Used to be,” Sam agrees. Fully printed, the safehouse completely lacks the Bridges logo. 

Once they’re both inside, Higgs takes a long look around, like he can’t believe the entire structure was printed. To be honest, Sam has trouble wrapping his mind around it, too. Even if they did spend last evening staying in one already.

It’s the same routine, too, down to Higgs’ reluctance to be nude around Sam. It’s not like Sam is a child in a locker room, trying to take a quick peek to see what other boys look. He keeps his back turned to Higgs at all times, until he hears Higgs step out of the shower and dress. Sam can’t blame the guy, though, given he’s usually covered himself. Not just the scar, but the handprints on his skin— he’s worn long-sleeved shirts for most of his life, regardless of situation, to hide the repatriation marks. He knows for a fact Higgs has them, too; he’s seen the one wrapped around the back of his neck, looking like someone tried to scruff him like a badly behaved cat. 

Higgs is mindlessly flipping through data on the Chiral. Like he’s doing his best to pretend Sam isn’t there at all.

Yet when they finally sleep, it’s Higgs who wraps his arms around Sam, lazy and comfortable.


	29. Chapter 29

In the morning, after breakfast, Sam brings up the weather readings on the big Chiral screen. The red blobs are still there, looking like they might be a bit more numerous than they were yesterday. Higgs looks over Sam’s shoulder at the radar with great interest. If you squint, the red blobs all together almost resemble a skull. 

“Creepy,” Higgs says.

“A little bit,” Sam agrees.

“Weather must be havin’ a laugh at our expense,” Higgs chuckles as he stands, suiting up. “We headin’ out?”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees, staring at the screen on his wrist. “Looks like it might be nothing after all; wind’s blowing towards the east. It’ll probably dissipate over the mountain range. Still not sure what the hell it is, though.”

Higgs looks like he’s about to start arguing. “We’re still headed towards it, right?” The annoyance is clear on his face.

“Don’t know what the radar is having trouble reading, so, yeah, we’re still headed out.” Sam stands, and they head out a moment later. They walk in silence, the storm in the distance looking ominous, and Sam thinks he sees lightning in the clouds. Good thing it’s headed away from them, huh?

They walk for a while, discussing their plans for when they get back to the village. Higgs mentions being annoyed with himself for not bringing a book for their downtime, and Sam talks about rearranging the shelter a bit to give them both more space to utilize. 

There’s the familiar _beep beep beep_ as both their hoods are pulled over their heads, and Sam frowns. “Thought it was goin’ east,” he murmurs, to himself, as Higgs looks excited. Like he’s looking forward to the possibility of encountering BTs and God-only-knows what else out here. Annoying how the storms always manage to darken the sky so completely.

Sam twists his wrist, bringing the chiral screen up on his cufflinks.

This part of the storm had been forecasted, but it’s the _other_ thing that strikes Sam as more important at the moment. The sudden, inexplicable movement of the red storm. “Aw, what the hell,” Sam mutters. The damn weather radar must be broken, that’s the only explanation for what he’s seeing, why the wind would be blowing eastward, but the goddamn red blob of a storm headed straight towards them, to the northwest. 

“What is it?” Higgs approaches him, frowning.

“Fuckin’ storm’s acting weird,” Sam says, holding his arm out so Higgs can see the screen too. “You ever seen a storm do that?”

“Nope,” Higgs says briskly. “Could summon rain, but I couldn’t control storms. You know, back before the Stranding, they had more accurate readings that we do now? Could track the severity of a storm and everything. Nothin’ like it is now.”

Sam shoots him a look. “Are you saying the reason for the error is that the storm is worse than the radar is used to?”

Higgs has the nerve to shrug. “Could be,” he says.

Well, it’s hardly the first time they’ve wandered into the unknown without a clue of what’s coming for them.

They walk for a while, with absolutely no BTs within the storm. It leaves Sam feeling remarkably unsettled. He’s hardly ever been in a storm where there weren’t any— and even then, he’d probably been lucky about avoiding them more than them being absent completely.

Looking out into the distant lightning, Sam already feels that familiar sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

“Do you ever feel like the world is out to get you?” Higgs asks, gazing into the storm.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with you. It rains all the fuckin’ time,” Sam grumbles.

Higgs shakes his head, looking annoyed— which is funny, given how Sam currently feels about the conversation. “Who’s the one with the connection to the other side? Even if it’s muted, I can feel it. There’s something here.” 

“That doesn’t mean you have anything to do with it.”

“Once is an incident, twice is a coincidence, but thrice,” of fucking course Higgs would use the word ‘thrice’, “is a pattern, Sammy.”

Already perturbed by the storm’s abrupt change in direction, Sam doesn’t have the patience for Higgs’ bullshit. “Are you seriously claiming you’re the reason there have been two major chiral storms over the mountain? Again, it storms all the goddamn time.” 

Sighing, Higgs gestures to the sky. “Wherever I go, it seems Death is following me, searching for me. Surely you’ve noticed?”

Sam _has_ noticed the increase in bad chiral storms since Higgs’ return from the Beach. But he doesn’t seriously think Higgs has anything to do with them— why would he? It’s pretty damn narcissistic of Higgs to see himself as the reason for a now fundamental part of the world behaving the way it does. Like hell is he feeding into that ego. “Can’t say I have,” he says roughly.

Instead of pushing the subject, Higgs looks incredibly put off for a moment before he appears to dismiss it entirely.

They walk in silence for a while. Still no BTs, and the rain isn’t so loud, so Sam strikes up a conversation. “You gonna take over the bathroom for an entire evening when we get back?” he asks, hoping his voice is teasing and not anything that could be construed as aggressive. 

“You know it. I hate those fuckin’ showers. Who the hell only uses one for three minutes? Damn timer is annoying.”

Sam can’t help the laugh. “You can turn that off, you know. It’s meant to be for people in a hurry.”

Higgs stops walking to glare. “You shittin’ me?”

“Nah. I’ll show ya when we get back.”

Higgs doesn’t respond, but Sam doesn’t really mind the silence, especially since they’re both so fixated on what could be waiting for them as the storm looms closer and closer. Higgs stops walking, turning to stare at Sam. “There’s something big out there,” he says, looking at Sam carefully. “I can feel it. Doesn’t exactly feel like the attacker did, either.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“No.” But then he’s frowning, like he’s been caught in a lie. “It feels a little like the Extinction Entity did, that pull. Feels like if I get too close, I’ll sink right in.”

Sam freezes. “Should we turn around?” He remembers that fight, and he remembers how Amelie had turned into Higgs— or Higgs had turned into Amelie— before it. An impossibility he couldn’t bring himself to wonder about, and even before then, the dream where Amelie had spoken directly to him through Higgs. Every word said to him had been because Amelie had willed it.

He doesn’t think they have enough firepower to take on something so horrible, especially not if it’ll draw Higgs right into it.

“I can’t,” Higgs says quietly, and Sam doesn’t miss the wording. 

“We’ll keep moving, then,” Sam says, nerves crawling down his back like a spider on bare skin.

Higgs doesn’t respond again, he keeps moving. It’s a slow pace, but it’s deliberate. Like he knows exactly where he’s going, even though neither of them know what’s waiting for them, and Sam definitely doesn’t remember the area well enough to navigate through it. Timefall hits the ground with a quiet roar, and Sam keeps having to watch where he’s walking for fear he might slip.

When they enter BT territory, it feels a little like Sam’s just run into a brick wall. It’s a thick, heavy barrier, and it’s startling to watch Higgs slip through it like he doesn’t feel it at all.

“Higgs, wait,” Sam says, and it’s enough to get him to stop, to turn around.

Higgs turns slowly. “What’re you doing?” he asks.

Sam grimaces. “Something’s— something’s wrong about this. Feels like I’m trying to walk through drying cement.” He’s not exaggerating, either, as he tries to push against the barrier. What the hell is this? BTs have never repelled him before, don’t repel living things _period_ , because they’re all hungry, horrifying beasts seeking annihilation.

“Not a time for jokes, Sam,” Higgs says, offering his hand. Sam swallows the impulse to insult him for the dig, instead taking his hand, and just like that, the feeling of the impassible barrier passes as he slips inside of it. Higgs lets go, but brushes his shoulder against Sam, staying so close to the other man.

There are gazers lurking about, but between Sam’s ability to see them, and Higgs’ sensing them, they’re doing all right. They move carefully, slowly. Sam holds his breath, hoping that gazers are all that there will be. 

They _were_ doing all right.

There isn’t a sound, like with the whales and the shark, but there’s a sudden sensation, and all the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck stand on end. It feels a little like something stepped through his body, icy and cold.

There’s a rumbling beneath his feet, and they both look at the ground, at the pebbles bouncing, just slightly. Like something is moving them, something massive below the surface.

The dark, dark tar filling the ground isn’t so unfamiliar to Sam. It seems like lately, shit is going wrong every time he intentionally seeks out BTs. With this latest one, there might not even have been anything to worry about in a few days, if he’d just fucking stayed put. But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t; and so here they are, another terrible situation, and Higgs turns to look at him like he’s just now noticed Sam standing next to him, his expression haunted and fearful.

His eyes are wide, and his skin is so, so pale. He looks sick, he looks like death. Higgs had once stared at Sam with defiance in his eyes, rage and jealousy and despair as they were both compelled to fight for the amusement of the Extinction Entity, who had already chosen her victor. Higgs, on his back on wet sand covered in blood, his hair so dirty it had looked like he’d aged twenty years in a matter of minutes. Higgs had welcomed the prospect of death by Sam’s hands with open arms, seemed eager for it.

And then Sam had brought him back, and he’d thought Higgs had reached a point where he no longer longed for his own destruction.

They’ve dealt with worse, fought the shark and both managed to walk away from it remarkably unscathed. Why is there so much terror in those ice-blue eyes? Sam doesn’t understand, once again. There’s so much he doesn’t understand.

Sam opens his mouth to ask Higgs what’s wrong, but the question dies in his throat as Higgs extends one hand, palm flat in front of him. There are thick, thick tar tears streaking down his face, and Sam doesn’t know if they’re real tears, or from the allergy. It’s like time has come to a crawl, frozen in the moment. Without even thinking about it, he’s reaching out for Higgs, trying to grab his hand.

 _”I’m sorry,”_ Higgs mouths over the roar of the storm, and Sam is sent flying backwards, against the rocks. As darkness swamps his vision, he sees something launch itself from the tar, something enormous and monstrous, covered in countless tethers, that swallows Higgs whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to everyone who has left comments and/or kudos, it's seriously appreciated.


	30. Chapter 30

Sam isn’t sure how long it is until he comes to. He hasn’t repatriated, didn’t see the Seam, didn’t immediately vomit up tar upon waking up, but this is still _bad._ His head hurts worse than that time he’d managed to be hungover and have a migraine at the same time. 

The near entirety of the old volcano has been reduced to an enormous, colorless crater, chiral matter endlessly floating upward. He’d only barely managed to avoid being caught in the voidout, just outside of the blast radius. How the hell did he manage to walk away from this unscathed? “Higgs?” he calls, sudden terror hammering in his chest. “Higgs!”

Higgs is a repatriate, this couldn’t have killed him. No way. Not permanently. It can’t happen.

Somehow, he avoided going blind from the voidout. He must have been knocked unconscious, but against the rocks that should have been fatal. His hand goes to the back of his head, but there’s no blood, no injury at all. How he’d managed to avoid smashing his head in on the rocks is a complete mystery, though. Not that he isn’t grateful for it, regardless of what stopped it. It’s why he’s standing up, looking at nothing, and not staring at old blood and brain matter on the ground.

The storm has completely vanished; Sam will have to check later to see if the red blobs have gone with it, or if they have appeared elsewhere on the radar. “Higgs!” he calls again. Goddammit, this is why he should have an odradek equipped. He’d be able to scan the area, find Higgs so much quicker than he can now, when the crater is so immense and so deep, he can’t make out anything within it. 

It’s slow-going, climbing down the edge of the crater. Still and uneven, there are plenty of places where he could easily slip, and Sam doesn’t exactly want to break his fall with his face. “Higgs!” he yells again, the panic starting to well in his throat, because he doesn’t see the man anywhere, and the goddamn bond of theirs isn’t good enough for anything but confirming that Sam can still sense Higgs on the other side of that rope. Barely.

But what good is _sensing_ him when Sam can’t see him?

As he approaches the halfway mark of the crater’s side, he scans the area again. What he wouldn’t give for an odradek, if he could summon one like Higgs used to summon weapons; it had been useful for its ability to tell him about stable ground as much as it had anything else. He hasn’t needed it for the most part; he knows the ground he usually travels well enough it’s not a problem, but this…

The anxiety crawls down his spine as he looks desperately for any sign of the man.

It’s so big, so endless. He remembers when he woke up from the attack on Central Knot to find the entire city and surrounding area gone. It had been impossibly huge, even for a voidout. So much death, so much destruction. All of those people, gone in an instant.

The crater is miles across, but Sam has nothing but time. It wouldn’t be the first time he walks until he collapses from exhaustion, or dies from the elements. He reaches flat ground and finds himself too anxious to be relieved at being on stable ground again. Still no sign of Higgs, and Sam can’t leave without him.

There’s a whole lotta nothing as he walks, wondering how long until someone notices the entire area has been wiped off the map, when nobody comes out here anymore. The scientists who lived out here as Sam had been making his way westward would probably have been horrified. Hell, Higgs is likely going to be horrified; there’s a lot of information hidden out here, it seems. Information that’s now been completely lost.

He walks and walks some more. 

He could jump, maybe. But he can’t get a good read on Higgs right now, can’t find him. Maybe because he’s spent too long with the other man always nearby— it’s dulled how acute the pull is when they’re not together. He’s still not sure why it’s them, of all people.

Life and death; two opposite, but not opposing, forces. 

Eventually, life gives in to death’s embrace. That’s just how it is. It can try and fight it, or it can accept it. Higgs had seemed determined to convince people to accept their face. Had urged Sam to see the reality of extinction. 

He almost had a point, but Sam won’t give in so easily. Maybe that’s why he’d been chosen in the first place.

Eventually, the Final Stranding will happen, but Sam will delay it for as long as he possibly can.

“Did you do this?” he calls up to the sky, to Amelie. He doesn’t even know if she can hear him. If she even knows or cares who he is anymore. “Why him, why did you make _him_ my opposite?” He’s crying, still angry. Still feeling that betrayal like he’d just learned the truth yesterday. “What’s so special about the two of us?”

He knows he’ll get no response, no answer, but…

God dammit, when did he start feeling so strongly for Higgs Monaghan?

Sam keeps walking. He’s not sure what’s more pressing on his mind: the fact that Higgs had apparently regained some power after all, after never answering Sam’s questions one way or another, or the fact that the first time Sam’s ever seen him _use_ that power was to throw him out of harm’s way as a BT tried to kill them both. A sacrifice to save a life from the herald of death.

The invisible sun, always watching but never seen, hangs low in the air. It’s getting dark out, dark enough Sam is going to be stumbling blindly because he didn’t bring a fucking odradek with him, and has no other light source.

It’s only once the sun’s light has almost completely vanished that Sam reaches what he thinks is close to the epicenter.

He spots Higgs, almost in the exact center of the crater— no, it might actually be the center, given Higgs had been the trigger. He’s prone on his back, very much in one piece. Repatriation still stands, then. How long has it been? Sam hasn’t been keeping track, hasn’t been able to, when the only thing going through his mind’s been finding the man safe and alive— he doesn’t stop running until he’s at Higgs’ side, kneeling to pull him up.

Higgs coughs, almost chokes, and manages to turn his head as he wretches, vomiting tar onto the ground and not all over Sam. “Sam?” he murmurs, eyes shut from exhaustion. He looks like hell, like that first day Sam brought him home and he was so weak all he could do was lay in bed. Back when Higgs had been a complete stranger, an impulsive decision, and not a man Sam trusts completely.

Sam pulls him into a hug, arms wrapped around him protectively. “Thank God,” he whispers. “Don’t do that to me. Don’t do that ever again.” Higgs is too weak to return the embrace, but Sam can feel his arms twitch as he attempts to anyway. He kisses Higgs on the forehead, one hand combing through his dirty hair. Higgs just rests against him, completely out of it. Sam isn’t even sure how long he’s been walking. “Gonna take you back to the shelter now, okay?” he murmurs.

“…okay,” Higgs says quietly.

He warps.

**

Jumping all the way home, especially with both of them weak and exhausted, is completely out of the question, but the shelter they’d spent the previous night in will do fine. Sam helps Higgs get his overclothes off before helping him into bed. He’s probably not going to be sleeping tonight; Sam knows this is going to be another sleepless night for himself, as it is. He’s too wound up now, too anxious. “Why’d you do it?” he asks, partially expecting Higgs to not answer the question. He looks like shit, and still has his eyes closed, every ounce of energy in his body completely spent.

“I don’t know,” Higgs says, and despite the lack of an actual answer, Sam knows he’s being truthful. “I didn’t think about it. Just did it.”

A split-second impulse to throw Sam back, out of harm’s way.

“I spent all day looking for you,” Sam says. He doesn’t mean it to reprimand the guy, doesn’t know what he means by it himself, honestly. He wants to climb into bed with Higgs, but doesn’t know if it’s a good idea with him so out of it. 

“Sorry,” Higgs says slowly, eyes cracking open. Sam opens his mouth to tell Higgs not to apologize, but he continues on. “It took more out of me than I anticipated. Was always doin’ all kinds of things, more ‘n more, bringing weapons to me. Didn’t realize how much power that actually needed.”

“You scared me,” Sam whispers.

Higgs frowns, his expression fluctuating into something unreadable before it lands on confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“I couldn’t find you. I could barely feel you.” He’s only barely able to hold back the noisy sob, but the tears are present. “Couldn’t see you, and the goddamn crater was so fucking big.”

Higgs reaches out, touching at Sam’s face with the tips of his fingers. “You’re a strange man, Sam Porter Bridges.”

“You’re one to talk. Are you trying to poke my eye out?”

Higgs laughs, and then winces like it hurts. He doesn’t answer the playful question, though, so Sam grips his hand, lacing their fingers together. It feels so nice, so correct. Like how Lucy had felt so right, so wonderful. The first time in his life he’d felt that way, the first time in his life he’d let someone in so deep touch didn’t bother him at all. A part of him pangs at the thought, that maybe this is wrong; wanting someone who isn’t Lucy is wrong. It certainly shouldn’t be with the man who attempted, and very nearly succeeded, at ending the world.

Would Lucy understand? Would she be angry, disappointed? Would she want him to move on at all?

The frightening part is that he’ll never know.


	31. Chapter 31

It’s a dream.

Sam thinks it’s a dream.

He’s on the Beach, but it’s like he’s not even really there, a passive observer watching a scene unfold. Higgs lays on his back, almost completely unmoving, some distance away. Sam’s impulse is to rush to the man’s side, but he can’t, he can’t move at all. Higgs doesn’t look like he’s bleeding out, but he doesn’t look like he’s capable of standing, either.

Amelie strides towards Higgs, feet away, and he raises an arm out to her, as if to touch her. No, as if he wants her to touch him. “Please… please,” he says brokenly. “Please— I did everything you asked. Just like you wanted.” Amelie doesn’t say a word, just looks down at him. Sam can’t see her face from here, can’t see her expression, but by the broken noise Higgs makes, it’s not what he’s looking for. It’s somehow not what he wants. If Amelie is saying anything to him, Sam can’t make it out, even though he can hear Higgs clearly. “Please. It’s all I want.” Amelie approaches him, her gaze cast downward, hair falling in front of her face.

“No, no,” Higgs moans, arm stretching out all the way, weakly grasping for his goddess. “No, no, please no,” Amelie turns away sharply, and Higgs _wails._ “You promised me! You promised me you’d let me die!”

Is it cruelty? Hesitation? Something else completely? Sam doesn’t even understand what he’s seeing, but his face is suddenly coated with thick, sticky tears. He’s on his back, it’s _his_ arm outstretched as he lays on the Beach, too weak to even sit up. That’s _his_ hand reaching out for her, _his_ tattoo. “Amelie,” Sam calls to her back as she walks away from him. _“Amelie!”_

He wakes so suddenly, he sits up, startled to feel tears in his eyes. He doesn’t normally cry in his sleep, even from the ones that remind him of Lucy, Lou, and everyone else he’s lost. Higgs is already awake, staring up at the ceiling, black tears rimming his eyes. He cries so often Sam has never found a way to ask him if he’s always cried tears made of tar.

“Nightmare?” Higgs asks dully, but his gaze flickers to Sam for a moment before it returns to the ceiling.

“Always,” Sam murmurs.

“Fuck DOOMS,” Higgs says darkly.

“Amen.”

Sam would love to be back home right about now, but he doesn’t think he’s capable of making a jump that far in his current condition.

Higgs sits up, looking somewhere past Sam, somewhere past the walls of the private room. He lifts a hand up, like he’s reaching for something, and Sam watches with a little interest, but mostly alarm, as one of the cans of beer starts to wobble erratically. It’s not like he’s never seen Higgs manipulate objects, but it wasn’t this unsteady before, it was smooth and seamless, and Higgs had done it with little effort at all.

It lifts, still unsteady, but being midair seems to smooth the process a little, and it glides into Higgs hand. He immediately pops the tab, taking a deep drink from the can.

“If you throw up, I’m not helping you wash out your clothes,” Sam says seriously. 

“There’d have to actually be alcohol in this to do that, wouldn’t there, Sammy?” 

Sam snorts, shaking his head. 

More seriously, he wants to ask Higgs what the fuck happened yesterday, because nothing about it made sense, from the barrier Higgs had to pull Sam through, the monstrous BT that swallowed him, to the fact that Higgs used enormous power to shove Sam to safety that left him unconscious until Sam reached his side. The more he thinks about it, the more unsettled he becomes. How the _hell_ had any of that happened? It’s not possible.

“What was that thing that attacked you?” Sam asks before he can stop himself. “Where did it come from?”

Higgs actually stops drinking to consider the question, before he shrugs. “Dunno,” he says. “I s’pose it could be that the longer the Final Stranding is postponed, the more… well, primeval the BTs might become.”

“That didn’t look like a dinosaur to me,” Sam mutters.

“You’re thinking much too narrowly. Remember, the previous Extinction Entity was an ammonite.”

…Did he know that? And what the fuck is an ammonite?

“Are you telling me you know what killed you?”

“Anomalocaris, only enormous. About the size one would need to be, if man were its prey. Or something like it.”

Sam doesn’t have a fucking clue what that is, so he brings it up on his cufflinks, and takes in the image of an animal that looks a bit like a shrimp, if a shrimp were covered in plates, with strange appendages on its mouth, and stalks for eyes. Most of the catchers he’s seen have seemingly been amalgamations of animals, or twisted versions of what they may have been in life. This fucking thing is unsettling all on its own. He spends a long moment reading basic information on it, frowning. “It lived half a billion years ago. How the hell would a BT that old still be around?”

“Ain’t that the question of the day,” Higgs says dryly. He stands up quite suddenly. “We’re headed back home now, right? No reason to stick around this fucking place.” 

For a moment, all Sam can do is stare. It’s not the first time Higgs has called the shelter ‘home’, but this time he’s said it while lucid. “Yeah,” he finally says. “Yeah, we can head back.”


	32. Chapter 32

It takes two days to reach home, and when they descend the shelter’s stairs and swing the door to the living space open, Higgs groans, “thank fuck for an actual bathroom,” kicks off his shoes and jumpsuit, and proceeds to spend an hour inside, almost certainly taking a bath.

No more storms are on the radar, thank God, because Sam has had enough of BTs attacking him to last him the rest of his abnormally long lifetime. 

_This_ is going to be the month where nothing else happens, he swears to God. He’s been dealing with this shit his entire life, enough is enough. If he’s really been cursed to walk the Earth until the end of time, he wants to have something approaching a normal life for as long as possible.

And if that normal life is going to involve living with a man who absolutely scared the hell out of him a few days ago, who a long time ago had been an enemy, he’s more okay with that than he thought he’d be.

More than okay, if he’s being honest. Whatever their connection is, it’s powerful. And he’s felt more at ease ever since he stopped trying to fight it. He’s just embraced it for what it is, and Higgs isn’t a monster without Amelie’s influence. He’s not the man from the journals who was eager to help people despite not understanding them, but Sam thinks he sees glimpses of him from time to time. Like he was with Abby, or the short conversation he’d had with Mary in the greenhouse. The Higgs who became shockingly well-meaning despite— no, in spite of— his traumatic upbringing. 

Whatever cosmic forces brought the source of the Death Stranding and the herald of death together could very well be more powerful than Bridget, than Amelie. He doesn’t know. It still could have been her doing in the first place, nightmare notwithstanding. 

The “how” and the “why” isn’t so important, he figures. It is what it is, and to be honest, Sam is capable of accepting how deeply he cares for Higgs, even if he doesn’t know the word for it.

**

Higgs steps out of the bathroom some time later, when Sam is on the couch, watching some show he’s only half paying attention to on the Chiral screen. It’s surprising, mostly because he’s wrapped in a couple of towels, and not the pajamas that cover his entire body, like the ones Sam had given him months ago.

“Sam,” he says, when Sam doesn’t glance at him for more than a moment. “I…”

Sam doesn’t respond verbally, looking up at Higgs, letting him take his time. “I was thinking that I should really show myself to you. Like you did with your scar. I’ve just… never done it before, with anyone. You were the first person to have seen all of my face in… years, I think. Decades, more likely.” He looks so lost and vulnerable, the charismatic man falling away into something more akin to a skittish deer. 

Sam doesn’t know how to proceed, but he doesn’t want to frighten Higgs away, doesn’t want to see him putting up walls and masks. “I’d like that,” he settles for. It doesn’t sound romantic at all, but it appears to have something of an affect anyway. “But not like this. I want…” he sighs. Fuck, he’s only doing this because a few days ago, he’d been traumatized out of his mind. He told himself he wouldn’t rush into things. “Is it all right if I take you to bed?”

Higgs had put up an enormous boundary, one Sam isn’t willing to cross without permission, but there’s something too abrupt and clinical about the idea of Higgs pulling off the towels in front of Sam, nothing tender or loving at all. 

After a long moment, Higgs nods, mutely, no tension in his body at all.

It’s how they find themselves on the bed twenty minutes later, both in their pajamas. Higgs is on his back, looking nervous, but not scared, his knees bent, feet flat on the mattress with his legs spread apart just slightly. Sam is stretched out on his side, amazed at how relaxed Higgs looks, even slightly anxious. He leans in to kiss him, slowly.

Higgs melts into the kiss, long arms wrapping around Sam’s shoulders.

It’s more tongue than anything else, and when they pull away to breathe, Higgs’ pupils are completely blown out. Sam takes a chance, his hands going for the top button of Higgs’ shirt, and when he doesn’t get a protest, starts to slowly unbutton the whole thing, kisses trailing down the unflexed tendon of his neck. Higgs makes little noises, too quiet to be moans, but too throaty to be anything but sounds of pleasure.

“S’good?” Sam murmurs, wanting this, this connection, so, so badly. There isn’t a bone in his body that wants to hurt Higgs in any way, not even to be a little rough. They’ve both had too much pain in their lives.

“Good, fuck, Sam,” Higgs whimpers.

Sam finishes unbuttoning Higgs’ shirt, but doesn’t move to pull it off of him, instead looking at him again. Higgs doesn’t look frightened, doesn’t look like he’s about to panic and call it off, instead sitting up on his elbows long enough to help Sam rid him of his top.

Sam thinks he understands why Higgs covers himself, now. The scars scattered across his body look brutal, and some of them are incredibly old. Permanent reminders of a terrible childhood. Sam runs his fingers along one just below Higgs’ right shoulder that looks horribly like he’d been stabbed with a broken bottle. Higgs sucks in a breath, but doesn’t stop Sam from his exploration, watching him with a mixture of wariness and interest.

Sam leans down to kiss at it, and though Higgs suddenly breathes in a sharp, breathy sound, he makes no move to stop him. Higgs’ hand ends up in Sam’s hair, not pulling, not hurting him, just holding on to him. 

Sam likes it, likes the touch.

They deserve this, this tenderness. They’ve both had enough pain in their lives. He glances up at Higgs, who nods mutely. Permission given, he trails kisses lower and lower, down past his naval. Sam looks up at Higgs again. His face is tinged with pink. “You a’ight?” Sam asks him. Just to be sure. 

Higgs nods again. “Don’t stop, Sammy.”

Sam hadn’t allowed himself to take in Higgs’ form when he’d been pulling his wet clothes off of him all those months ago in effort to prevent hypothermia. Had wanted to give some privacy, some control, to Higgs even when he’d been unconscious. He’s openly looking now, though, at the handprints on his skin, and the scars— all the injuries Higgs has survived.

He tugs at the hem of Higgs’ pants, to which the other man responds by lifting his hips, helping pull his clothes off. There are more scars and handprints on his legs, though more prominent is the tent in his underwear, the obvious half formed erection. Higgs’ face is flushed, maybe in embarrassment, maybe just arousal. 

“How far do you want to go?”

It gets blue eyes to snap to his, looking lost for a moment. “I… I don’t know. No penetration.”

It’s not like Sam had even considered doing something like that tonight, so it’s not a problem. “Got it,” he murmurs, kissing at Higgs’ ear. He aligns himself with Higgs’ chest, resting between his thighs. They kiss, Sam breaking it to say, “help me out of this?” indicating his own clothes. Higgs doesn’t waste time, more eager than Sam would have thought he’d be, unbuttoning Sam’s entire top in a matter of seconds and pressing his palms to the scar.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Higgs groans. He pulls Sam on top of him, and it’s a good few minutes before they’re completely nude. Sam has never been with a man before, doesn’t know what to do. But Higgs is just as inexperienced in this, so when they find themselves on their sides, limbs intertwined, neither has a real idea of how to proceed. Nothing to go by besides what feels good and right.

And it feels especially good when Higgs’ hand wraps around Sam’s dick, Sam reaching to do the same, stroking and making little noises against Higgs’ mouth between the kisses. Higgs rocks into his hand, and Sam does the same to Higgs with a stuttering moan. “Fuck, Higgs,” Sam whispers.

The settle into a rhythm, staccato and uneven, and a little awkward. Not that it matters right now, when they’re so close, free hands wrapped around each other‘s shoulders.

Higgs’ eyes fall closed at some point, and so do Sam’s, breathing heavily. There’s a hand in his hair, and he’s acutely aware of the familiar sensation building.

“Sam, Sam, Sam. Fuck,” Higgs moans against his mouth, the way his breathing hitches is unbelievably attractive, and Sam is positive he must be making noises himself, because Higgs’ hand wraps around the back of his neck tightly, pushing them even closer.

Sam isn’t sure how long he can hold out; it’s been a long fucking time, and he’s already close, can feel tightness growing. Promised release. 

Higgs comes first, moaning Sam’s name against his mouth; Sam, moments later. Sam’s aware of the sticky mess between them, on his hand, the bed. But he’s too relaxed to want to move right away, and Higgs has gone completely slack against him, panting.

“Holy shit,” Higgs moans, sounding entirely spent. “That was… fuck.” 

“Yeah,” Sam agrees hazily. “Fuck.”

He’s aware of the cleanup they do before going to bed, but he’s honestly still riding out the high as he crawls back under the covers, wrapped around Higgs. When he finally drifts off, he doesn’t have any nightmares at all.


	33. Chapter 33

Higgs doesn’t remember the last time he slept through the night without having a dream he didn’t wake up from covered in his DOOMS bullshit tears. He’s awake before Sam for once, which is surprising. He’s also acutely aware that he’s completely naked. Higgs hurriedly dresses himself before Sam can wake, alarmed at himself for how easily he’d fallen asleep the previous night. 

Not that he regrets his… enlightening evening with Sam. Far from it. 

It’s done wonders to quell that voice telling him Sam doesn’t want anything to do with him.

With Fragile, it had been an idle thought, a wonder. A potential for something, maybe. But if there had ever been anything there, it never got off the ground. Amelie had willed Her herald to be distraction-free, and Higgs had been all too happy to please his goddess. Never knowing what could have been will probably drive him into dark places, if he dwells on it for too long.

But now he’s safe in his own head, content with the knowledge that Sam Porter Bridges is not manipulative like Amelie, certainly not.

The shelter feels stifling all of a sudden; he needs to get out. See the village again, it’s been a long while. But after last night, waking up with Higgs not there, Sam might come to the very wrong conclusion. After a moment’s searching and being unable to find any paper to scrawl a message for Sam onto, he settles for wearing his cufflinks instead. Always next to the door except for the rare occasion they leave the shelter, it’ll be as obvious a sign as any that Higgs hasn’t bolted. 

There isn’t anyone in the halls at mid-morning, though Higgs doesn’t actually know how often the communal spaces are ever used. People don’t exactly come to visit Sam much, though come to think of it, maybe that’s because of Higgs. Sam wanting to give Higgs time to acclimate. 

He walks for a while before he comes across another communal space he thinks he must have missed the first time out. It’s a library, quite obviously. It’s small, about the size of the shelter he and Sam live in, but it’s covered wall-to-wall with books, and numerous miss-matched chairs and couches decorate the middle. By how there’s no real system of organization going on, it’s clear the books here are meant to be shared by everyone, and put back wherever there’s space.

Huh, maybe he should bring some of the books he doesn’t intend to read again anytime soon out here.

A waterlogged book with the title _The Andromeda Strain_ catches his eye, and he sits down in a chair across from the door, so Higgs can see whoever’s coming in the event Sam decides to stop by to see where he’s gone.

The book gives a loud crinkle of protest upon being opened, but it doesn’t stop him from starting to read it anyway. It’s actually a while before he hears someone approaching down the hall. Too small, too low to the ground, the stride too short to be Sam. He glances up, and is surprised to see Abby staring at him from the doorway with wide eyes. “Mr. Higgs!” she practically shouts, bounding up to him, a brilliant smile on her face. “I didn’t know where you went. I thought maybe you and Mr. Sam had a fight!”

Higgs nearly chokes, setting the book aside before he damages it.

“I missed you,” she says, so earnestly it takes a moment for it to fully sink in.

“Sorry to worry you, darlin’,” Higgs says carefully. He’s barely spoken to children in his life, doesn’t know the first thing about them. “Don’t go worryin’ about us no more. Sam and I are just fine.” More than fine, honestly.

“Gramma Mary said the same thing.”

“See? You should listen to your granny.” 

Abby beams at him, pulling up a smaller chair to sit next to him. She shows off her collection of picture books, various cute stories he’s never heard of before, and he listens to her with great interest. It wouldn’t do to be rude to a little lady, after all. Eventually, though, she gets bored of talking about her books.

“Gramma Mary told me sometimes people take a long time to figure things out. She told me it took her and Grandpa two years!”

If he wasn’t sure what she was talking about with the first half of that statement, he sure as hell knows with the second. He can feel the flush on his face, suddenly rooted to the spot, but Abby doesn’t appear to notice anything at all. 

Abby looks up almost as soon as she’s made her pronouncement. “Hi, Mr. Sam!”

Oh, thank God. Sam can save him from relationship advice as given by a seven-year-old. 

Sam stoops down. “Hey, there Abby. You keepin’ Higgs company?”

“Yep!” Abby says eagerly. “I was telling Mr. Higgs about how Gramma Mary said you guys are like her and Grandpa.”

By the pink tinge that’s suddenly on Sam’s face, it’s clear this is news to him, too. “Is… is that right?” he says, standing up. Sam has remarkably more grace than Higgs, because he smooths it over quickly. “Well, Higgs and I have some talkin’ to do. I’m sure he’ll be back out here later. You should go back to your Grandma before she wonders where you’ve run off to.” He smiles at her, messes up her hair— earning a giggle from the little girl as she scampers off down the hall. 

“Bye, Mr. Higgs!” she calls before she’s out of sight.

Sam looks at Higgs with wide eyes before he’s able to speak. “Sorry about that. Kid’s got gumption.” 

“I’ll say,” Higgs says dryly. “What have you been telling people about us?” he asks, feeling put off, but not as angry as he thinks he should feel.

“Nothin’, honest.” Sam holds out both hands by way of apology.

“How the hell did she hear that shit from Mary, then?”

“Shh! Let’s… go back to the shelter. Easier to talk there.”

Still frustrated, Higgs agrees. As soon as they’re back in the shelter, he slides into his seat at the kitchen table, annoyed. Sam looks a little embarrassed, but mostly tired as he sits across from Higgs. “I didn’t talk about us much at all, really. That shit’s private as far as I’m concerned, but people aren’t stupid, Higgs. Everyone saw how closely you clung to me at Abby’s party.”

Higgs frowns, trying to remember anything that happened at Abby’s party besides her talking to him about books and then hugging him out of the blue, and comes up blank. “I… what?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Can’t say I do.”

Sam sighs. “You were more ‘n my personal space than I usually let people, even now. And I’ve had a lot of people, Mary especially, telling me to ‘find someone’ for the last six years.” He rubs his forehead, and then gets up to start the coffee maker. “Thanks for being kind to her, even with her springing that on you.”

“Wasn’t gonna take anything out on the kid,” Higgs mutters. 

“Didn’t say I thought you would.” 

Just like that, the subject seems dropped. Fine with Higgs, because he’s not sure how much he likes the idea of a whole village of people placing bets on whether he and Sam are an item. He’s a private man, for fuck’s sake, and he doesn’t much like people anyway. Sam offers him a coffee, and Higgs takes it, suddenly feeling like a dick for assuming the worst.

“Sorry.”

Sam looks at him for a long moment. “For what?”

“Thinkin’ you were gossiping about us.”

Sam shrugs. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” he says. He offers a hand stretched out on the table. Higgs takes it without hesitation. 

“You all right?” Sam asks. He must be doing what he always does, showing thoughts and emotions on his face he doesn’t actually want anybody to see. What he wouldn’t give to slip his mask on right now… 

“I,” Higgs begins, suddenly aware that he’s so very lost right now. “I don’t know.”

Sam leans over and kisses him, kisses him, and it’s so soft. And the scratch of his beard is surprisingly rough, considering Higgs has one of his own. The kiss doesn’t last for very long, but it feels… nice. Even nicer when Sam doesn’t pull back very far. “We’re both pretty new at this,” Sam says. “I don’t know what it is, this connection between the two of us. But I know I always feel better when I’m near you.”

It’s strange to hear that maybe the restless hollowness he feels isn’t so one-sided after all.


	34. Chapter 34

It seems to take Higgs a few weeks to accept that, yes, they _have_ stumbled their way into this relationship without a name. Any word Sam can think of doesn’t sound quite right to him. Either too juvenile, or completely lacking in nuance. Lovers, boyfriends, partners… with the distinctly supernatural connection of theirs, something that doesn’t tell one about anything the other’s feeling or thinking, something that just _is_ , it’s hard to wrap his mind around.

Lockne and Målingen had always spoken of each other as if they considered themselves one entity with two souls.

It’s not exactly like that, with Higgs, but it feels more like it than anything else. This nameless connection.

It hasn’t changed much about their relationship, thank God; Higgs didn’t even comment when Sam got rid of the other bed. It’s not like it’s been used in months, and they needed the space, besides. He thinks, though, that Higgs must be happy about it, the way he relaxed when the space became more shelving— mostly for his books. Sam isn’t certain if happiness is a feeling Higgs can readily expression. Honestly, Sam isn’t certain _Sam_ can express it, either.

It seems like Higgs’ default state is an ever-present melancholy when he isn’t reading a book, or watching some deep, thought-provoking movie on the Chiral that Sam never understands, but which often leaves a profound mark on Higgs, still talking about the film days later.

He’s lounging on the couch reading a book that must’ve come from the library when Sam approaches him, tapping him on the foot to get his attention. 

“What?” Higgs asks, not looking up from his book, but not sounding annoyed, either.

“I need to pick some things up at Mountain Knot. Come with?”

Higgs takes a moment to mark his place with a small scrap of paper before he looks up at Sam, looking like he’s searching for something in Sam’s expression before nodding. “Sure,” he says.

When they’re both dressed in their jumpsuits— Higgs’ now proudly displaying the insignia for Sam’s company— they set off through the snow.

“Weather’s supposed to be clear,” Sam tells Higgs, even as they both shiver at the cold as soon as they step outside.

Higgs twists his wrist to bring up the Chiral screen, confirming it for himself. “Good,” he says. “I’ve had enough of storms.” He brushes against Sam’s shoulder, reaching for him for a brief moment before he lets go, staring off in the distance. “Are we goin’ to the distribution center, or the city itself?”

“The city,” Sam says, and then rolls his eyes when Higgs makes a face. “We’re not staying in there for very long. Just picking up some things for people. It’s not like it needs to go through the center, since I’m the one bringin’ it back.”

“What are you bringing back?”

“Food, mostly. For the communal center. And some seeds and plants for the greenhouse.” Delicate things, things Sam would rather handle himself. It’s nothing personal against other porters, and he does often order things from them, even food. But the plants need to be brought back as soon as possible.

Higgs is quiet for a while before he says, “sounds reasonable,” with a little nod.

The walk is uneventful, except for when they come across a small porter team, who all recognize Sam with excitement. They take in Higgs’ tattoos with stares, but none of them say anything about them, seemingly more fascinated by the man known for working solo taking on an employee. Higgs doesn’t seem to know how to deal with the attention, but he’s polite, and more confident than he is with Abby.

Doesn’t know what to do with people, but understands adults better than children. It’s entirely fair.

**

Sam usually does everything he can to stay out of cities. They’re claustrophobic and crowded, and though they manage to look an awful lot like the pre-Stranding cities he’s seen in pictures and movies, he prefers how the village opens up to nature instead the crowded streets and bustling noise. Neither place can actually have the sky visible, but it’s… different in a way he isn’t sure he likes.

Higgs stays close by his side, looking overwhelmed and more than a little overstimulated. “You all right?” Sam asks quietly.

“Fine,” Higgs says tightly, the tone he always uses when he’s trying to avoid admitting he’s uncomfortable.

“We’ll be out, soon,” he murmurs, reaching up to pat Higgs on the shoulder. The touch doesn’t seem to make Higgs jump, which is surprising, in a good way.

The walk to the greenery isn’t too far, when Sam knows where he’s going, though he doesn’t exactly like the crowded streets.

“Somethin’ feels off,” Higgs mutters to Sam.

“How so?”

“Not sure. It’s too indistinct, hard to explain. There’s a… presence here.”

Sam stops walking to stare at Higgs. “What do you mean?” All he can think about is BTs in the city, what a disaster that would be. He can’t sense any, though. Higgs may be attuned to the other side acutely, but Sam has his own connection. It’s powerful in its own way, something he’s had his entire life, and hasn’t yet failed him. 

“I don’t know,” Higgs shrugs. “Could be nothing. But probably not.”

“Let me know if anything changes,” Sam says, and starts walking again. Nothing they can do about it, right now. Weapons aren’t allowed into the city, not even ones that could kill a BT, because at the end of the day, bullets are still bullets. 

“Will do,” Higgs says, sounding sullen. Sam can’t blame him, not really. 

The rest of their trip to the greenery is done in silence, Sam stepping inside first before Higgs follows him.

“Sam!” the old woman greets him, smile not the same as Mary’s, but so friendly. “I have the supplies you ordered all ready to go right here,” she says, tapping at a large container. It’s a moment before she notices Higgs, who hangs in the back, not having approached with Sam. “Oh, you brought someone with you! I’m Alice, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Higgs. Pleasure’s all mine, ma’am,” Higgs says, still hanging back, though he does offer a friendly wave.

They leave not long after, with Higgs offering to carry the case of plants on his back. “Why does no one react to my name?” he says to Sam, voice barely hovering over a whisper. He isn’t crying, but Sam can hear the tremble.

“Because you’re not the one who went down in history as a monster,” Sam says quietly.

“Oh.” Higgs looks like he’s never thought of the possibility. Sam reaches up to wrap an arm around him. 

The grocer is a little more unusual, not someone he’s really ever spoken with; Sam’s only here because it made sense to pick up both orders at once, instead of waiting for them to be delivered. But it’s easy enough to pick up, this time Sam carrying the several cases on his back. It’s obvious how tense Higgs had been in the city, as soon as they leave the perimeter check. His shoulders droop, and he lets out a quiet sigh. 

“Want to help me in the greenhouse?” Sam asks. He figures the tension must be from Higgs going somewhere he didn’t want to be, but going there anyway. Sam appreciates the effort, he really does. Doing things for each other. Interdependency, Lucy had called it. Higgs coming with him on deliveries, Sam discussing movies and books with Higgs he doesn’t really understand.

“Sure,” Higgs says. There’s the barest trace of a smile on his lips.


	35. Chapter 35

Being shown how to maintain the various plants in the greenhouse means Higgs will have another thing to do when he gets bored. Some are pretty high-maintenance, others just need a bit of water now and then. Sam goes through all of them, including the new plants, and by the end Higgs is confident he’ll be able to help with upkeep. Sam suggests grabbing a handful of vegetables for dinner, and leaves for home.

Left alone, he can’t help thinking about the feeling he’d gotten in the city.

It had been… strange, not something he’d felt before, not really. Death feels differently, depending what it is. A body about to pop, versus a BT itself. A gazer versus a catcher. A catcher versus the attacker, versus whatever the fuck it was that killed him. He doesn’t have a word for it, besides maybe another variation of attacker.

It was definitely not good, whatever it was.

But the more pressing concern is definitely the presence in the city. He’ll need to think about how to discuss it with Sam. To be able to sense death at all in a Knot City is a bad sign, but it’s the fact that he can’t _identify_ the source that’s throwing him. He doesn’t care about the people in the city, but the villagers don’t deserve that shit. 

No, Higgs doesn’t want any harm to befall them at all.

_You’re not the one who went down in history as a monster._

He’s not sure how he feels about it, to be honest. He deserves to be known as the monster who rained down destruction and misery onto the country. Deserves every bit of hate sent his way. When She’d cut him off, and he’d gained enough of himself back to realize what he’d done, what She’d done to him, he couldn’t live with himself. Couldn’t go on living.

Not when his options were eternal solitude on the Beach or the promised release of a permanent death.

How fitting of a punishment to be given the former when he sought the latter.

Sam should have been the one to end his life. Not the coward’s way out, his automatic weapon to his lips. That’s not how it was supposed to go.

He grabs a handful of vegetables before Sam can come looking for him and get concerned about Higgs’ absence, and heads home.

Sam greets him with a kiss when he walks through the door, and Higgs has to admit to himself that the proximity chases the darkness of his thoughts away. He’s never had this before, never had someone enjoying his company without layers of masks, has never had someone see all of him before. It never before occurred to him that someone could see all of him, all of his damaged parts, and still want him.

“What’re you making for supper?” Higgs asks, as Sam takes the vegetables from him.

“Spaghetti. Thanks for this, it’s gonna work great.”

“Can I help?” he asks. He’s never really cooked for himself much. And he’d spent the last year of his life before finding himself one hundred years in the future eating nothing but pizza. 

Sam smiles at him like he’s been hoping Higgs would ask. “You can help cook the pasta. Go ahead and fill that with water,” he says, gesturing at a pan that’s already sitting out on the stove. The instructions are simple enough, not the sort of thing you can fuck up. Bring water to a boil, add salt, cook the pasta for this exact amount of time… it’s idiot-proof. Higgs proof, if you will. He chuckles at his private joke before Sam asks him to help chop the vegetables.

Dinner is wonderful, maybe because he’s helped cook it himself, and it’s not a shock when they end up on the couch, Higgs laying on Sam, watching the dreary movie about the man who lost his wife for a third time.

“I don’t understand the number thing,” Higgs admits when the credits roll.

“It wasn’t her time yet,” Sam says, surprising Higgs because it means he’d been paying attention.

“What?”

“Whatever was warning them… spirits, angels, aliens… dunno. Whatever was warning them didn’t think she was meant to die there. Couldn’t interfere directly, but wanted to warn her nevertheless.” He wraps an arm tightly around Higgs, fingers combing through his hair. “Wanted to warn a lot of people.”

“Seems like a lonely existence for her, losin’ so many people.”

Sam frowns thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. They were both lonely. Shitty circumstances brought them together; now they have each other. It’s a beginning.”

Higgs looks at him with a raised brow. “You talkin’ ‘bout the movie or us?”

Sam smiles and responds by kissing Higgs on the mouth. “I’m talkin’ about the movie. Ain’t my fault it makes you think about other things,” he says. His tone is so light, even Higgs can’t miss the teasing. 

“That so?” he drawls, “you got any other wisdom about the film?”

“Well,” Sam says, hand still in Higgs’ hair. “I guess it depends on whether or not you think it was fate or a coincidence. Me, I guess I’m living proof that destiny bullshit is real. It’s not… it doesn’t mean much, right in the moment. ‘ve just found each other. A beginning, like I said. And I know that uncertainty.”

“No plans of what’s next for us, then?” Higgs murmurs against Sam’s ear as he lays flat on the man.

“That’s not my decision to make alone,” Sam says carefully. 

“Right.” It was easier when none of it had actually been his decision, and all of it had been someone else’s will supplanting his own. He’d never been uncertain, and always did what he was told. This do it together bullshit fucking sucks.

Sam doesn’t let him sink into those thoughts, though, and it’s not the first time he’s wondered if Sam can read his mind. His other hand slides up the back of Higgs’ shirt, holding him. “Don’t know about you, but I think I like what we’ve got going on right now.”

“Mm,” Higgs murmurs in response. “Can’t say I disagree.”

He needs to talk to Sam about Mountain Knot, but he doesn’t want to deal with it tonight. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment, when they’re so close and so relaxed. 

It’s not a surprise when they end up in bed tonight pulling off each’s other’s clothes, mouths pressed together and hands grasping at each other. Their limbs intertwined, Sam’s hand on his cock, his on Sam’s, both of them moaning the other’s name. He’s pretty sure he can get used to this closeness, every time they’re like this. When it’s over, Higgs rolls onto his back, a satisfied smile on his lips.


	36. Chapter 36

When Sam wakes later in the week, Higgs isn’t in the shelter. His cuffs are gone, what’s become their unstated communication for when Higgs is in the village. Sam figures he’s back in the library; he’s been spending most of his time in there lately. 

Higgs _is_ in the library, looking very comfortable on one of the couches with thick cushions, a small stack of books resting on the floor next to him.

“What’re you reading?” Sam asks, and Higgs looks up, showing him the book. Sam doesn’t recognize the title, as usual, and Higgs gives a brief description confirming it is yet another depressing novel about a bleak future.

He really wishes Higgs would read other things. Even the medical textbooks would be a better choice, but Sam doesn’t know how to broach the subject. Especially when it does seem to be the stories he genuinely enjoys. Sam sits next to Higgs, who responds to the closeness by shifting so he’s resting his weight on Sam. 

“You’re not off to do more deliveries, are you?” Higgs mutters without looking up from his book.

“Not at all. Thought I’d keep you company.”

Just the same, Higgs sighs and marks his place in the book. “I need to talk to you about the presence I felt in Mountain Knot.” It’s early enough in the morning Sam doesn’t think anyone will stop by, there shouldn’t be any harm in talking about it here. He hopes, anyway.

“I don’t know what it was,” Higgs says. “The fact that I couldn’t tell what it was, exactly… it’s a little frightening, Sammy.” It says a lot that Higgs is able to admit as much to him. They both trust each other enough to let their guards down. To show vulnerabilities. 

“Can you try to describe it?”

“Indistinct,” Higgs says quietly. “Like maybe there was some sort of barrier between me and it. Like hearin’ a muffled conversation from the next room over, when you can tell it’s in English, but can’t make out the words.”

Sam can feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It couldn’t be…

The horror must be visible on his face, because Higgs stares at him for a long moment, brows furrowed. “Sam?”

Sam rubs his face with his palms. “I think I know what you’re sensin’,” he murmurs. “Fuck. I told them this was a bad idea, that it would come back to bite us all in the ass.”

“What are you talking about?”

Sam sits up, glancing up at the doorway, making sure no one is coming down the hall. “The original power source for the Chiral network, that hooked up to every Knot City. It was a BB,” he says. He can almost taste bile at the thought. Even more horrible, until his father had gotten Sam out of the pod, Sam was primed to be Bridget’s first sacrificial lamb. “Since lives were just tools to Bridget, she didn’t seem bothered by the idea. Me? Fuckin’ hated it. So did Deadman. When Bridges found me, it was one of the first things I told ‘em about. Lockne and Målingen had designed it together; didn’t have a clue.”

He sighs, because it’s hard to talk about. He misses them so much, wishes he could hear the serene way Lockne used to speak, far off and present at the same time. “The Chiral needs a connection to the Beach to function, without it, it’s useless. The temporary solution they came up with was a kind of force-field to act as a container, using a BT in stasis as the power source instead. Only they never were able to find a permanent solution.”

Higgs glares at him, looking furious. About what part, he’s not sure. There were a lot of bad fucking ideas when it came to running the Chiral network. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he growls. “Do you _know_ how suicidal that is?”

“Believe me, I know. Think I’m the only person left who knows about it.”

“Great,” Higgs mutters. “You have a ticking time-bomb in all of the cities in the country, what could go wrong? It’s not like humanity is livin’ on borrowed time or anything, and we’re one fuckin’ voidout away from triggering the Final Stranding.”

They’ve never discussed whether Higgs’ thoughts on it have changed. Sam hasn’t wanted to, not really. He’s been taking it one day at a time, concerned more with their relationship than the fact that the world could end at any moment.

Sam doesn’t ask, just places a hand on Higgs’ shoulder, who responds by huffing at him, but doesn’t say anything else.

They’re both porters; there’s approximately fuck all they can do about it. Higgs is intelligent, smart enough to create nukes in his spare time, but Sam seriously doubts he’d know how to fix the Chiral’s problem when the women who created it never found a way to fix it. Hoping for the best isn’t great when you’re facing down oblivion, but what else can they do?

“Fucking thing made my skin crawl,” Higgs grumbles. “Felt like someone wrapped my brain up inside of my skull.”

“You can stay home the next time I need to enter the city,” Sam offers.

“No.” The answer is short and annoyed. “Absolutely not. And have you stuck in a city when that thing gets loose?” 

It’s kind of funny hearing Higgs be protective. Funny, but there’s also an ache in Sam’s chest at the idea that someone, anyone, cares enough for him to want to protect him from harm.

That person being Higgs doesn’t bother him anymore.


	37. Chapter 37

It’s a long while before Higgs works up the nerve to read the history of the UCA’s beginnings. He hasn’t wanted to read about how people remember him, hasn’t wanted to deal with history framing Sam as the hero who saved Amelie, who united the country after the Death Stranding had torn it apart. Sam despises Amelie, that much is clear. Higgs doesn’t know how to feel, truthfully. But history being anything but kind towards Sam’s “sister” is inconceivable. 

It’ll make for some interesting reading.

The information on the Chiral is dense and endless, and can very quickly become overwhelming if one is merely browsing with no particular goal in mind. It’s why Higgs always needs something incredibly specific, when he’s browsing.

Which is why he searches for the beginnings of the UCA, that will lead him to his own history.

It takes him a while to find exactly what he’s looking for, the files that had been written contemporaneously, and not years after the fact. 

He’s honestly not sure what he was expecting, but it’s not a complete lack of Sam’s name.

Higgs supposes that, maybe, Sam doesn’t need mentioning. Not when he’s still around, and people still praise him.

Even so, he’s really not mentioned at all. The completed Chiral network connection is attributed to “one lone, brave porter”. For the longest time, Higgs has thought that maybe Sam moved out into the middle of nowhere to be left alone because he grew tired of fame. Sure, he started a village, but who wouldn’t want to live in a village founded by Sam Porter Bridges? It makes Sam’s story of not being found by Bridges for decades sound a little suspicious.

For Sam to not be mentioned at all, it must have been a specific demand.

It was different, as herald, thinking that Sam wanted to go on that journey to “save” America. Higgs as the herald had thought the quest to be futile, and only existing to bring about the end of the world. But as Higgs Monaghan, he can see the reality for what it really was. Sam never wanted to be a hero. He didn’t set out to be anything. 

He’d simply started on a quest to find Amelie, to rescue Her from Her so-called kidnappers. Helping build the UCA was completely incidental. 

It’s his own name that Higgs searches for with a queasy sense of dread. 

There honestly isn’t as much as he’d thought. Oh, he’s mentioned. He’s mentioned quite a bit. Terrorist leader, the person who destroyed Middle Knot, the person who tried to destroy South Knot. Central Knot isn’t mentioned in connection to him at all, though. The voidout would have likely happened regardless, but Higgs hadn’t helped things, had instead ensured the death of Sam’s entire expedition team. Maybe Sam didn’t remember that he’d been there; seems possible.

Sam had been telling the truth about “Monaghan” being left out of what’s written, though. It’s incredibly stupid, because it’s not like he was an unknown before Amelie. The UCA had spent years trying to get him to join them, and he’d refused every single time. No government was going to get him to leave the safety that was true freedom. 

It’s what comes after all of that, after mentions of his crimes, that leaves him shaken. The information that could only have come from Fragile, about how he’d been a good man, once. He’s not even sure why Fragile would have bothered with this, with trying to make Higgs out to be something he’s not. Bothering to make him sound human, like a person, and not an agent of destruction.

According to this, he’d been a good person. Before Amelie. How Amelie had corrupted him, controlled him, and he hadn’t been the only one. There is absolutely no reference to his past, to the journals he’d left Sam. Nothing. Just plenty of information on how he’d been uniting the Western Region with his company, before Amelie came and wiped the entire area from existence. How he’d been an early ally of Fragile Express; his selfish reasoning isn’t even alluded to.

He doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve anything but hatred and infamy. 

How the hell can he be painted as a fucking _victim?_

This is a lot of bullshit; something he doesn’t want to think about it. Higgs wasn’t innocent in any of this. He can admit he was used, but a victim? Horseshit, all of it.

Higgs stops reading, because it’s honestly disgusting. There’s nothing neutral about it, insisting a fucking terrorist deserves any sympathy at all. He doesn’t, he just doesn’t. If he’d really been a good person the Extinction Entity wouldn’t have been able to control him. He would have been immune to it, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t have immediately ruined his only close relationship for the sake of someone he’d just met. He hadn’t even known what Amelie really was, then. She’d just filled that emptiness in him, and Fragile no longer mattered. Amelie and Her incredible power was all that mattered.

Whatever else it says doesn’t matter, and he’s not sure how much he wants to hear about Her anyway. He’d been so devoted to Amelie, that reading anything negative about Her would just… he’s not even sure. 

He steps outside dressed in warm winter clothes, and sits overlooking the mountains just inside of the shelter’s entrance. It’s pretty out, even with the snow and the sky being nearly the same color. 

He’s not sure how long he’s outside. At one point, a long time ago now, people had been able to keep track of the time by where the sun was in the sky. Now? There’s no way to tell, not until sunset or sunrise, when it starts to get dark.

He hears the door to the shelter open behind him but doesn’t turn to look. “There you are,” Sam says, sitting next to him. 

Sam doesn’t say anything else, and Higgs leans against him, content.


	38. Chapter 38

Sam has always spent a lot of his time outdoors; it comes with being a porter. The outside world doesn’t frighten him the way it frightens people who’ve spent their entire lives in prepper shelters, or inside the cities. The cold isn’t terrible right now, even if he can see both of their breaths hanging in the air as they sit together.

“Nice coming out here to think, huh?” he asks, wrapping one arm around Higgs.

“Fresh air does some good now and again.”

They’re alike in the most interesting ways. Both preferring the outdoors, even with the danger of timefall and BTs, both feeling restless too often inside. Sam hadn’t exactly set out to help people, solve all of their problems, as he walked across America, but every time he found an abandoned package, every prepper he met… he’d wanted to help them. 

Higgs had been that way, a long time ago. Brought up being told not to bother with people, but ignoring it in favor of listening to his own ideology. The one that told him to reach as many people as possible.

“Always nice having downtime, huh?” Sam asks.

“I guess,” Higgs murmurs. He shakes his head after a moment. “No,” he amends. “I hate it. Makes me think about dark things. The longer I have, the more I think about it, the more I can’t get it out of my head.” Sam’s seen it firsthand, the troubled thoughts Higgs has, and their effect on him. Even when he doesn’t tell Sam, Sam can still see it in his eyes.

“Tell me about it?” Sam asks, completely aware he’s going to be getting unpleasant answers. He’s known Higgs is bitter and cynical about life for a long time. It’s fine; all he wants, all he really wants, is for Higgs to know he’s someone that can be depended on. 

Their relationship is mutual. It would be completely unfair for Sam to ask things of Higgs, and have Higgs never ask things of Sam.

“You don’t want me to,” Higgs says, sounding so lonely.

“I do,” Sam urges him. “The good and the bad, Higgs, all relationships come with both.” Higgs’ brows knit together, and he looks so lost. Like he doesn’t understand how Sam could possibly want the bad.

He looks like he might bolt back into the shelter to avoid the conversation entirely.

But he doesn’t move.

Sam waits, patient.

“Sometimes I think about our future, what it’ll be like. Will the Final Stranding be the end all, the grand finale? I don’t know if it’ll kill us,” Higgs says distantly, his gaze somewhere else entirely. “Will we be around to see all water boil away, the dying land around us?” The dark thoughts have never left him— will never leave him. “You know, the human body can go a long, long time without eating. But not drinking.”

Higgs gestures at nowhere in particular. “What will it be like when we’re the only life left? Will we be caught in a constant cycle of dying— the elements. Hunger. Thirst. Which will kill us first? Will we outlive the planet, I wonder.” He looks to Sam, before he looks away again. “When the sun turns red and angry, burns away the atmosphere and planet, will we survive? Will we float there, frozen in space forever?”

He wraps his arms around himself. “Maybe we’ll live to see the true end, the heat death of the universe, when we evaporate into the particles whence we came, until even those are gone, and there’s nothing at all.”

“Higgs,” Sam says, moving before he can think of a reason not to, cupping his face in large hands. “You can’t think like that. It’s a black abyss you’ll never crawl out of.”

“How can you not think about it? What it means, to be a repatriate?” 

“I do,” Sam says miserably. “I think about it so much.”

Higgs looks so lost, but he doesn’t speak. Sam touches their foreheads together. “We can’t… we can’t keep looking that far into the future. It’ll kill us.” Higgs’ eyes fall closed. He doesn’t speak, and Sam isn’t sure what else to say. He’s a goddamn porter. He was never cut out to be humanity’s bridge. He’s never been good at talking to people. “We have to live for the now, for the present. Live with the hope that we’ll wake to see tomorrow. It’s the only way.”

There are black tears streaked down Higgs’ face, but when he reaches out to touch Sam’s hands, it’s not to pull them away. Sam takes it as good a sign as any. Sam isn’t certain if his own tears are just the result of allergy.

“I’ll try,” Higgs murmurs. “Dunno if I’m cut out for this.” 

Sam kisses him on the cheek. “All I want is for you to try.”

“Were you always such a fucking sap?” Higgs complains, making a face.

It’s said so grouchily, Sam can’t help the little laugh. “Feeling any better?”

“No,” Higgs says at once. “I don’t know. I haven’t…” 

He looks so lost, like he’s never shown himself so nakedly before. Has never allowed himself to be vulnerable. He probably hasn’t, not in his entire life. Hasn’t found the ability. Hasn’t found anyone he’s comfortable letting his guard down entirely for.

Sam thinks that maybe he, himself, he’s ready to open up again.


	39. Chapter 39

His growing relationship with Sam is making Higgs rethink things, almost constantly. 

It’s been maybe ten months, though Higgs is lousy at keeping track of time these days, and doesn’t exactly remember when he’d been brought back from the Beach as a result of the delirium he’d suffered.

He hasn’t brought it up, but… it’s not like his connection to Her is _gone_. She cut him off, left him powerless, but he can still feel Her in some way, know She’s around, will always be there. Knows that nightmare he’d had where he was back on the Beach wasn’t a dream at all. He’s just not certain how he’s going to bring it up with Sam. If ever. She frightens him on a visceral level, makes him want to drop to his knees and beg. He doesn’t even know what he’d be begging for, exactly. Forgiveness? His own life? Sam’s?

No, it couldn’t be Sam’s.

It’s not like She would hurt Sam.

He doesn’t think so, but he doesn’t want to think about it at all. Using Sam as a weapon against Higgs would work only too easily. 

She’d seen the signs long before Higgs had even begun to realize it for himself. Long, long before. His powers grow exponentially through death, and Sam is the source of his powers to begin with. He’d been drawn to Sam like a moth to a flame, an instinctual pull he has no name for. He’d been focused on Amelie, right up until She’d let him know about Her “brother”, and just like that Higgs’ entire focus had shifted.

Amelie had taken advantage of the obsession, encouraged it, but Higgs doesn’t think She could have conceived of the bond being as powerful as it is. For Sam to seek him out, to want to bring him back from his exile on the Beach _a century later._

It’s powerful shit, maybe even as powerful as Her. 

What had the vision been, a warning? A reminder? A threat?

She’d promised to take away his repatriation when his job was done, a reward for Her faithful herald. And then She’d broken that promise, left him on the Beach where he eventually didn’t even have his own thoughts to keep him company any longer. 

…but Sam had come. 

Maybe Amelie hadn’t counted on that. Didn’t think that Sam would have any interest at all in retrieving Higgs from the Beach, or never considered him gaining the sort of power that would be needed to pull the only other repatriate in existence off the Beach.

_”Please. I did everything you asked. Just like you wanted.”_

Amelie had stooped down low in the dream-vision, looked at him with that gentle expression of Hers, the one that hid so much of what She really was, the one that had made him fall to his knees to please Her every single time. “What did you do to him, to Sam?” He hadn’t answered, hadn’t been able to answer, because it was like he wasn’t even there. All he could do in response was beg Her to end his life. Her gaze went to the quipu on his neck— where had that even come from? He hasn’t…

“I should never have given it to you,” She said. And then She just… left him there, not even having the strength to sit up.

Was it not just a vision, but a memory? Higgs doesn’t know for sure.

He’d meant to tell Sam about it, about the nightmare that was almost certainly not just a nightmare. But Sam had woken in tears, and it hadn’t mattered anymore. 

Can Amelie do anything with Her Beach cut off?

…No, that’s a stupid question. Of course She can do whatever She wants. She’s the Extinction Entity; She’ll end the world sooner or later. It’s the question of what can She do to them _here_ , isn’t it? Like maybe trap Higgs in an area with an impossibly old, impossibly huge, BT in an effort to kill him. That pull he’d felt… he’d been telling the truth, feeling like it was the Extinction Entity. The pull had been so powerful, if Sam had tried to warp them away, Higgs would have gotten violent.

Fuck.

He’d been terrified out of his mind, feeling himself sinking away.

What if it was an Extinction Entity? What if it was the _first_ Extinction Entity? Something that had come to Amelie’s aid to destroy the bond between the herald of death and the source of the Death Stranding.

Sam had mentioned something about not being able to pass through the area, though he’d had no trouble at all when Higgs took him by the hand. He’d thought Sam was fucking around, trying to joke, even though it wasn’t Sam’s sense of humor. Maybe he hadn’t been joking, hadn’t been lying. The look he’d given Higgs, annoyed and frightened, didn’t make it seem like it was a joke.

Arms wrap around him, snapping him out of his thoughts. Contact with Sam always does that, always brings him back to the present. “Stop looking at that. The blank screen ain’t that interestin’,” Sam says, and Higgs stares at the computer screens, wondering how long it’s been since the Chiral monitors turned themselves off. “Come watch something with me. My pick, this time.” Which means it’s not going to be something dreary, something that lets Higgs sink back into his thoughts about death.

They end up on the couch, staring at Sam’s small Chiral screen, Sam’s arms wrapped around him, keeping Higgs firmly in the moment. Higgs’s back rests against Sam’s chest, and he feels so comfortable like this. It’s some animated movies about dogs or something, that Sam says was one of Lou’s favorites. Higgs doesn’t get it, and definitely doesn’t get why the dogs can talk and not be noticed— and not just dogs, either, but cats and horses and cows. If animals can talk in this world, why can’t people understand them? It’s stupid.

He voices his complaint aloud, but all Sam does is laugh.

“Sam,” Higgs says, a thought occurring to him, not caring that he’s interrupting the movie. “Why do you live in a shelter so small? This couldn’t have been big enough when you had a kid living with you.”

“Oh,” Sam says, unbothered by the interruption. He even rests his chin on Higgs’ shoulder. “No, you’re right. That shelter went to one of the families years ago. When it was just me, I didn’t need all the room. So I moved into one of the smaller ones on this end. Why, you want more space?”

Higgs shakes his head. “No. It’s still huge compared to my shelter. I wasn’t really living in it, though. Just slept there, when I needed to.”

“Mm,” Sam says, which is too vague for Higgs to figure out what the noise means.

“Hey Sam,” Higgs says, not stopping to consider he has no need to get the attention of the man wrapped around him, whose lap he’s lounging on. “Do you think about how fucking much that lady must hate the shit out of the girl?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Well, she goes to all of this trouble stealing her so-called friend’s dogs. Fuck’s she gonna do, stroll on in wearing a coat made out of her friend’s pets and think girl’s not gonna figure it out?”

Sam gives a little laugh. “I think that’d be a completely different movie.”

It’s kind of incredible how much proximity to Sam helps him, how much safer he feels like this, how Higgs can trust his own mind, know his thoughts are completely his own. Sam takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. As always happens when Sam does these things, seems to know just what Higgs needs, he wonders if Sam can read his mind.

“Are you psychic or somethin’?” Higgs blurts before he can stop himself.

“Huh?”

“You’re always touchin’ me when I need it. Even when I don’t know I need it,” Higgs says, suddenly feeling stupid. “Like you can hear my thoughts.”

“It’s your eyes,” Sam says, and when Higgs frowns, he continues. “You get this far-off look in your eyes, like you’ve seen too much, and then you shut down. Your eyes always say so much.” As if to demonstrate, he brings Higgs’ hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“You’re… better at this than I would have reckoned.”

Sam doesn’t say anything for a long while. Higgs thinks he’s not going to speak, but then he pulls their hands to Higgs’ chest. “Lucy was a therapist,” he says quietly.

“You banged your therapist?!” Higgs gapes, swerving his head to stare at Sam.

“Jesus, you’re obnoxious,” Sam mutters. It is, without question, not a denial.

Higgs falls quiet, because it’s not the sort of conversation he wants to have. Sam’s a grown-ass man, and sleeping with the woman paid to listen to him talk sounds a lot more reasonable than— and then Sam uses his free hand to tip Higgs’ head, kisses him on the mouth. “…doin’ it again,” Sam murmurs.

Higgs still thinks the movie is ridiculous, how preposterous the notion of two dogs finding eighty-some puppies that aren’t their own, and accepting them as family without question. That doesn’t happen in real life, no prepper family ever took pity on him. He raised himself, taught himself everything he knows. He’s been alone his entire life. 

It’s only when the film ends, with the ridiculous happy ending that can only happen in a story designed for children, that Higgs swallows, feeling the nerves shooting down his back. “I… I need to talk to you. About what attacked me, the thing that caused the voidout.”

He’s really doing this, isn’t he? Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's largely hidden in the datalogs, but Sam is a spectacularly huge mess.


	40. Chapter 40

The connection they have doesn’t tell Sam much. A very, very general grasp at Higgs’ location. A bone-deep knowledge that searching out that connection will make the loneliness he didn’t know he felt until Lou’s death, until Deadman’s suicide, abate. Sam had been the one to find him, and _fuck_ … all those lost connections.

It had left him with nothing but the realization that the restless, numb feeling he’d had all that time had been _Higgs_. 

Sam doesn’t want to believe in fate, but it had been his “fate” to reunite America, to bring people together. Maybe that was always meant to include bringing Higgs Monaghan back from the Beach. 

“What about it?” he asks Higgs, making sure to keep touching the man, keeps their hands together. He doesn’t know how he helps Higgs, exactly, but he seems more lucid with Sam around, especially in close proximity.

“You asked me how a BT that old could still be around… I think I’ve figured it out.” Higgs fidgets restlessly, his troubled expression clear on his face. “Do you remember the Extinction Entity? When I met you in Edge Knot.”

“I do,” Sam says. How could he forget? He still has nightmares about the fight.

“That was…” Higgs trails off, biting at his lip. “It wasn’t the first. I know you know that, but…” he shrugs. “You’ve seen them in the sky, haven’t you? On the Beach. The five figures, always watching.”

“Yeah, I have.” He has a pretty good idea where Higgs is going with this, and it’s honestly terrifying. 

Higgs shrugs. “That thing was _really fuckin’ old_ ,” he says. “I think… I think it was the first Extinction Entity.”

Sam grimaces, closing his eyes. Fuck, he was afraid that was the answer. It would explain Higgs’ behavior, why he was compelled to keep walking when they’d both been frightened, though not why he’d thrown Sam to safety. “But how? Why? Those figures look like… well, _people._ And that would imply that the Extinction Entities have all been around the entire time after their Strandings.”

“It was after me,” Higgs says with a shrug. “Me, not you. Not both of us. _Me._ ”

“Yeah,” Sam says, unable to argue. The monster had tried to keep Sam out of the area, somehow. It still doesn’t mesh with everything he’s come to know about BTs, and he’s not sure why on Earth the past Extinction Entity would be focused so heavily on Higgs. Just because of his powers that come from death? Seems weird.

Higgs eyes him sharply, but appears to be satisfied that Sam isn’t going to argue the point. “What should we do?” Sam asks, hoping the question indicates he’s asking for Higgs’ thoughts and doesn’t sound like a demand for the solution.

“What can we do?” Higgs asks tiredly. “The sixth extinction _will_ happen. The only question is when.” He’s doing better, not immediately launching into an explanation about the futility of life. Hasn’t indicated how badly he wants to die.

“Deciding to stubbornly keep on living sounds good to me,” Sam says.

The laugh that escapes the herald is hoarse and terse, and genuine-sounding because of it. “Can’t believe you’re getting an agreement out of me,” he says.

Good, good. Hearing the man he cares about above all else say he wants to live floods Sam with relief. 

“What do you say to delaying extinction?” Sam asks, leaning up against the couch as Higgs settles against him once more.

He’s quiet for a while, clearly considering his answer. He doesn’t just blurt it out, which is a good sign, Sam thinks. “You’ll fail,” Higgs finally answers, his tone subdued. “You can’t stop this thing.”

“Delay,” Sam repeats gently. “I know we can’t stop it.” The timetable Higgs had given him on the Beach had seemed vast, to him. Even before he realized he was likely going to live forever. Sam still isn’t convinced he’s going to be around to see the end, if it really takes a hundred thousand years. 

“I don’t understand the difference,” Higgs says, sullen. He frowns at Sam, but doesn’t argue.

Sam kisses at his temple. “I want Abby to have a chance to grow up. I want her kids to have a chance to grow up, should she have any.” Higgs sighs, but doesn’t argue, just lets Sam keep on talking. “That’s what I want. I don’t even know if it’s possible, but we both have the ability to send BTs off to the other side. If there’s a possibility, I want to do it.”

Higgs sighs again, sounding exasperated. “Christ, I can’t believe you’re talking me into this.”

Sam can’t help the smile, brightening. “You’ll do it?”

Higgs cranes his neck to look at Sam. “I still don’t see the point,” he says carefully. “But I do like Abby too.” Sam has never seen Higgs act so gentle before, as he is with Abby. Yeah, Sam believes him completely. Higgs has never once lied to Sam, not about something that doesn’t involve Higgs not wanting to talk about his feelings. “And,” he hesitates, like he thinks he’s saying something inappropriate, or that maybe it’s something he’s not sure Sam wants to hear. “I… I like seein’ you happy, Sammy.”

His smile widens, leaning in to kiss Higgs. “Kinda like seeing you happy, too,” Sam murmurs. The kiss is chaste, even as Higgs changes position, still on Sam’s lap, but facing him now. That smile of his is mischievous, and there’s a glint in his eye that Sam honestly likes.

They kiss for a moment, foreheads touching. It’s always the little touches that Sam enjoys the most, the little touches he always longs for. It’s meditative and quiet, their connection not quite allowing the two of them to perfectly read each other, but the thrum is still there, an instinctive knowledge they’re not alone.

Higgs leans in, hands on Sam’s shirt for long a moment before they start to creep lower, beneath the hem, fondling at Sam’s stomach, his chest. Higgs’ gaze is locked with his as he leans in, completely in Sam’s space. “Want,” he begins, his voice a purr in Sam’s ear. “I want to go all the way with you.”

“You do?” Sam blinks. He doesn’t have a single complaint about the sex they’ve been having; it’s never occurred to ask before, to see if Higgs wants to change things up.

“I want you to fuck me,” Higgs says, lowly. Sam feels the heat rise on his face, that tingle of pleasure shooting down his back. Higgs grinds his ass against Sam’s lap for emphasis, and Sam grabs at his hips with a groan. “Make me tremble and moan, and cry out your name. Make me cum without needing to touch my dick at all.”

All of a sudden, his pants are uncomfortably tight, and Sam’s only barely able to stifle the noise he makes as Higgs grinds against him again. “Fucking… demanding,” he grumbles against Higgs’ neck.

“Not sayin’ to make a habit of this; seems like a lot of work, when your hand gets me off all nice already,” he purrs, grinding against Sam for emphasis, and Sam _moans._ “But I want this, right now. Your dick in me.”

“Fine,” Sam manages after he can think again. “No… no arguments here. Get… get yourself ready, yeah?” Maybe give himself enough time to calm down and not make a goddamn mess in his jeans before they’ve even gotten started. Fuck.

Higgs flashes him a knowing smile, not even bothering to hide his own incredibly obvious erection as he detangles himself from Sam. 

Jesus, he’s never heard Higgs talk like that before. It’s entirely unfair to spring that shit on an unsuspecting guy.


	41. Chapter 41

If they’re going to have mind-blowing sex every time they have an uncomfortable conversation, Higgs is going to need to find ways to bring up more awkward topics. He emerges from the bathroom, just in his pajama bottoms, and strides over to where Sam is on the bed, straddling him. Sam’s hands snap to his hips.

“Ready for me?” Higgs purrs.

“That’s my line,” Sam says, and in one smooth motion pulls Higgs from his lap onto the bed. Higgs goes easily, smirking broadly up at Sam when he’s on his back, legs apart. Part of him wants Sam to fuck him just like this, no lube, make it as rough and painful as possible. Sam could never do that, and Higgs, the Higgs that doesn’t want to sink into desires of pain and cruelty, doesn’t actually want to do something that might hurt _Sam._ And he knows Sam well enough to know that nothing would kill the mood for him faster than causing Higgs pain.

“We still good?” Sam murmurs, leaning down to kiss him.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Higgs says between kisses. “More’n ready.”

They fumble with their clothes, Higgs rolling onto his hands and knees to give Sam easier access for preparation, and growls at the quiet gasp Sam lets out when he sees the map of scars and handprints on Higgs’ back. Sam murmurs an apology at the same time he uncaps the lube, a slick, cold finger eliciting a gasp from Higgs.

The noises he makes aren’t loud, but they aren’t quiet, either. The stretch feels as good as it does strange, Sam hooking his finger, pressing against that spot. “Fuck,” Higgs groans, pressing his hands against the sheets, rocking up against Sam as he pulls out to add a second finger, and then a third. It’s not like either of them really know what they’re doing, so the process is slower than it otherwise might be. Eventually, Sam withdraws his fingers.

“Think that’s enough?”

“Reckon so,” Higgs says, nodding, rolling onto his back raising his hips up to grab at a pillow and shove it under himself. Any more of this foreplay shit, and he’s going to get impatient.

Sam’s already slicking his cock, Higgs watching him eagerly, his own dick twitching at the little noises Sam’s making. “C’mon, Sam. Fuck me,” Higgs grumbles. Sam climbs over him, kissing Higgs. He presses against him, slick and hard, and blunt, and _fuck_ it feels so good. He wraps his legs around Sam’s hips, arms wrapped around his shoulders. “So good,” he moans as Sam starts to move, slowly at first, picking up speed as he adjusts to the position.

They kiss open mouthed and messy, Higgs vaguely aware he’s saying things, more things, though he’s honestly not sure if they’re anything but babbles of pleasure and Sam’s name.

He’s vaguely aware of Sam’s hand suddenly on his dick, stroking, and Higgs has already grabbed at it to slap it away, demand Sam fuck him into an orgasm without touching him, but he can’t get his brain to cooperate, can’t get the words out, so he lays there with his hand on Sam’s as they fuck, as Sam’s stroking him, and it feels so fucking incredible.

It’s the closest he’s gotten to his brain shorting out on him, he thinks, his mind whiting out on him, rocking up against Sam in time with his thrusts.

“Sam, Sam, fuck,” he hears himself saying, pleasure swamping him, overwhelming his senses. 

“Jesus, Higgs,” Sam pants. “You’re so…” 

Sam’s the one to come first, but not by much, and then it’s Higgs turn to groan, aware of the mess he’s making all over himself, but not giving a single fuck, completely spent. Sam collapses on top of him, breathing hard. They’re sweaty and sticky and dirty, and they’ve never done it like this before, so Higgs isn’t sure what to do next. He feels gross, and really wants a shower, but Sam’s here, and Sam will always keep the nightmares at bay. 

“Get off of me,” Higgs growls when Sam’s breathing has evened out, because he’s sure as hell not falling asleep in his own mess, even as he’s still riding the pleasurable high of his orgasm. “I need a shower.”

“Could use one too,” Sam says, rolling onto his back next to Higgs.

“Ain’t a problem sharin’ it,” Higgs offers, smirking.

When the shower predictably dissolves into a second round of sex, Higgs doesn’t have a single complaint.


	42. Chapter 42

It turns out that incredible sex with Sam is not the cure-all Higgs had been thinking it was, because the DOOMS nightmares return with a vengeance. It’s sometimes hard to tell what’s just a dream, and what’s a vision. Or what’s both at the same time. It’s not like it’s clear, and even visions from Her were oftentimes unclear. It was only when She’d summoned him directly to the Beach that Higgs knew exactly what was expected of him.

He stands in the ruins of Middle Knot, timefall cascading endlessly down his back, his hood up, protecting the herald from a premature death. In the dream, he finds the ruins beautiful. A change from his waking mind, which finds them shameful. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Her voice says as he turns around. He sees Her, his goddess, and drops to one knee, averting his eyes.

“They’ll be thankful for the mercy; none of them even had time to feel pain,” Higgs says. “The UCA might say otherwise, but these folks were the lucky ones.”

“My merciful herald,” Amelie praises, and he feels his heart swell. “My shepherd of the dead.”

“It was all for You,” Higgs says rapturously. “To spread Your message.”

Something about what he’s said must have displeased his goddess, because She falls silent. It’s not the first time it’s happened, and Higgs knows better than to say a word, or to gaze up at Her. A frightening power grips him around the neck, tight enough to constrict his airway, but the dream makes him feel weightless enough he doesn’t fight it at all, arms drooping limply to his sides. He’s dragged upward, so he’s half-standing, entirely held up by Her power, and his gaze is paralyzed, unable to look anywhere that isn’t directly into Her eyes. 

He makes no pleas for mercy, no complaints about the pain, just accepts the punishment without question.

“You were supposed to bring him to me, not keep him for yourself.” She says it so pleasantly, so dreamily, Higgs smiles, even though he doesn’t understand what She’s talking about. Keep who to himself? He does nothing without Amelie’s blessing.

“Amelie,” he chokes out, with no real idea what he’s going to say. He just smiles placidly up at Her.

“I’d rip that strand out of your body if it wouldn’t kill him too,” She says gently. 

Strand? The only other strand he had was Fragile, and this act thoroughly severed that connection.

Amelie looks irritated now, frustration on Her immaculate face. “I didn’t reach the right part of you, did I?” She sighs. “You have no idea what I’m talking about.” Higgs’ skeletal mask materializes in front of Her, and She picks it up.

He never wears his masks around Amelie, has no reason. But he can do nothing but watch Her, anyway.

“We’ll try again another time,” Amelie says as the golden mask sparks in Her hand. She shoves it onto his face, the pain blindingly hot and terrible. He convulses, still powerless to do anything but take the punishment for a fuckup he doesn’t even understand. And his goddess is still smiling at him. He doesn’t understand, what did he do, what did he do wrong, this has all been for—

Higgs wakes up screaming.

Sam is immediately on alert, light flooding their tiny home as strong arms wrap around him. “Breathe,” Sam says. “Just breathe,” his hands brush through Higgs’ hair, and Higgs tries desperately to cling to the dream, to be able to tell Sam about what he’d just seen, but the more seconds tick by, the less he remembers.

All he can feel is the horrible sensation of the mask on his face, of the pain that came with it.

He sobs against Sam’s chest, terrified even as even the feeling of the mask on his face starts to wane. 

“It was a nightmare,” Sam says soothingly, his tone gentle. “You’re safe; I’m right here.”

“I don’t, I don’t _remember._ It hurt, it hurt so fucking much. I didn’t think dreams were supposed to hurt, Sam,” Higgs babbles. 

“Shh,” Sam says, wiping away black tears. He just holds him, and it makes Higgs feel so incredibly protected it’s unreal. Then he looks into Sam’s eyes and feels like shit again. He looks so tired, like he hasn’t slept at all, and it’s entirely Higgs’ fault. He’s crying, too. “Gonna make us some hot chocolate, that sound good?” Higgs nods, and Sam peels away from him.

Higgs doesn’t stand, just wraps himself in blankets, still sitting up. 

He doesn’t remember what frightened him so much he’d scream in his sleep like a child, and now feels incredibly foolish. He stands, eventually, and sits on the couch as Sam brings him a mug. Higgs’ thoughts wander back to the second night he was with Sam, when the mug had shattered in his grasp, cutting his hands open. He holds it in both his hands against his chest, drinking slowly. “Sorry,” he says after a long while.

Sam frowns. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Higgs begs to differ, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m serious,” Sam says, placing his hand on Higgs’ shoulder. Higgs looks at him, wishing it wasn’t so easy for Sam to read his face. “We’ve both been through a lot of shit, bad days are normal. What wouldn’t be normal is carrying on like nothing happened.” 

“Sounds preferable to this,” Higgs mutters.

“It’s not,” Sam says gently. “Bottling shit up ain’t good. You don’t have to hide things from me.” He looks so earnest, kind. Higgs doesn’t deserve this.

“I don’t,” he hesitates. “I don’t even remember what the dream was.” 

“That’s fine,” Sam says, unbothered. “Even with DOOMS I don’t always remember my dreams. They wake me up half the time even when I don’t remember shit. And then the rest of the time I wish I could forget it.”

Even with Sam telling him he’s allowed to speak, to ask questions, Higgs just stares at him. They’re both light sleepers; it’s not like Higgs has never noticed Sam jolting awake, even if he’s never woken up screaming before. He doesn’t ask, though, just stares at Sam. 

“What?” Sam asks, apparently not willing to let the unstated question go.

“What kinda dreams have been keeping you up at night?” Higgs drawls, expecting Sam not to answer.

“Had a dream I was you, on the Beach,” Sam says, which is a weird enough answer it snaps Higgs’ full attention to the other man.

“What do you mean?”

Sam frowns, taking a drink from his mug before he speaks. “I don’t really remember it too well, it was a while back, after you were attacked by that BT.” He shrugs, twisting the drink around in his hands. “I was on the Beach, watching you. Couldn’t move at a muscle. I think… I think Amelie was there?” He shakes his head. “Dunno, don’t remember. Wanted to help you, couldn’t move. I just remember that all of a sudden I was where you were. On my back, not able to move. Weirdest fucking thing.”

Higgs can feel the color drain from his face. It doesn’t sound exactly the same, but… it’s way too similar to be a coincidence. And Higgs has been around for far too long, spent enough time with Amelie whispering in his ear, he no longer believes in coincidences. 

“What?” Sam asks, now looking worried.

“I… I had a vision, that night. Amelie, speaking to me after I’d…” he trails off, swallowing. “She demanded to know what I’d done to you, but I didn’t understand. Couldn’t… all I could do was beg Her to kill me.” He can’t look at Sam, the idea is too terrifying. Not only that Sam had seen the same thing, but the fact that it confirms to Higgs that it must have been Amelie, their connection not gone. Maybe it’s not possible for it to be gone; his connection to death is too strong, even when he has almost nothing else. “She didn’t. She left, left me there.”

And Sam is forever connected to Her, too; that connection made even stronger by his connection to Higgs, feeding off of each other.

They can’t escape Her pull, were maybe never meant to.

“Jesus Christ,” Sam groans. “Jesus Christ.”

Higgs doesn’t say anything, because he can’t. There’s nothing to say.

“We’re sharing dreams,” Sam says, sounding so lost.

“Yeah,” Higgs agrees.

What the fuck does it _mean?_


	43. Chapter 43

Lockne and Målingen would know what to make of the fact that Sam and Higgs are sharing dreams. But Lockne and Målingen have been gone for a very long time. Is it every dream, or only certain ones? Had they shared the dream last night, that Higgs awoke from screaming? Sam honestly has no idea, because having your partner— fuck, that doesn’t feel like the right word, but nothing else sounds right either— wake up from a dead sleep in terror is a good way for a guy to completely forget whatever it was he was dreaming about.

The only time he’s ever really seen Higgs look afraid has always been in the context of rejection. Specifically, Sam rejecting him. He doesn’t think it could be that, now— they have so obviously cared for each other for so long that a seven-year-old child picked up on it before the two grown men in question. 

So whatever the dream was, it had been genuinely, horrifyingly upsetting. Sam has no way of knowing, and isn’t going to speculate. He’s just left with the question of how many times they’ve dreamed the same dream, how many times the Higgs who appears in Sam’s dreams has been just a dream, and how many times it’s been Higgs.

Sam imagines how the conversation would go, were he able to contact them. “It’s a reflection of your unique connection,” Målingen would probably say, strident and confident in her words even when she doesn’t have a clue. 

“You’re both opposite ends of the same strand,” Lockne would have say in her knowing, gentle way. She’d have plenty to say about it, speculating about the relationship between him and Higgs, what brought them together. ‘Close to forty’ is a vague answer for his age, and if it weren’t for the fact that Higgs’ journals indicated the Stranding had been something he’d been raised knowing about, Sam would wonder if Higgs isn’t older than that, that maybe they’re the same exact age. Though even on the lower end of the guess, there can’t be more than a nine or ten year gap between the two of them. The Stranding had still been very, very new when Higgs was born.

By then, Sam had already found himself longing for Amelie’s attention, knowing he couldn’t get it from Bridget. 

God, it doesn’t help matters at all, does it? Sam has no way of discussing it with anyone else, so here he is, having imaginary conversations with long-dead friends to try to figure out how the hell he and Higgs could be suddenly, inexplicably, having the same dreams.

…He’d been sharing dreams with Higgs before, though. When they were still enemies. At least twice, maybe three times if you can count Amelie speaking through Higgs, and that’s just what Sam can remember. It’s possible it happened more than that. 

That second time had been… that had been about the quipu, hadn’t it? Sam hasn’t asked Higgs about it, about how he got it. He’d assumed that Higgs had stolen it, but now Sam thinks it’s more likely that Amelie handed it over to him. But why? The BB doll connected him to Amelie, the quipu just seems superfluous.

“I don’t mean to share my dreams with you,” Higgs says quietly. “It just… happens,” he says.

“Not gonna blame you for something you can’t help,” Sam says.

Who knows how many times Sam’s dreams have leaked over to Higgs?

Higgs doesn’t say anything else. Sam brushes against him, deliberately keeping his arm wrapped around Higgs’ shoulder. They’ve slept like shit, won’t be going back to bed anytime soon, and Sam doesn’t want to take any chances with the guy falling into a dark place tonight. He doesn’t want that at all.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” Higgs says dully, not looking anywhere in particular.

“Why did you have Amelie’s quipu?”

Higgs looks at him for only a moment, confusion plain on his face, like he’s not sure where the question is coming from. It’s not the first time they’ve surprised each other. “To find you,” he says simply, when he’s again turned away. “Before I had it, the only way to find you was to know where exactly you were.”

Sam opens his mouth to ask how the quipu would help Higgs find him, but then he realizes. “It’s because I gave it to Amelie,” he says. Higgs nods, not saying a word. He sighs, leaning against Higgs tiredly. “Do you ever wonder what it was like before the Stranding? Where people had connections, and they weren’t physical ties holding them together?”

“I’ve never had many connections,” Higgs says. “Spent most of my life keepin’ people at a distance.”

“My father hugging me on the Beach was the first time I’d let someone touch me willingly since Lucy’s death.” It’s amazing, the things that stick in your memory. “I’m still not very good at it. Gotten a lot better, though.”

Higgs looks at him again, frowning. “I touched you all the time without ever triggering a reaction. Always thought it was kinda funny.”

It’s certainly true now, but Sam doesn’t remember the details of their past encounters well enough to agree or disagree with Higgs. Had he really never reacted? He’s almost never hesitated to touch Higgs now. “I don’t remember why,” Sam admits. 

He’s stared at for a long, awkward moment, Higgs clearly searching for what to say. “How can you not remember?”

“It was a long time ago, Higgs.” 

Sam’s used to not always being able to read Higgs, but he looks so lost right now. Sam wishes he knew what was on his mind. He can’t fault Higgs for not remembering how long it’s been, because from his perspective, time both flew by and didn’t pass at all simultaneously. At least one of them has sharp memories about the past; Higgs might not have the most reliable memory, but it sure seems to be spotless when it comes to Sam.

“You do remember me touching you, though,” Higgs mutters.

“Yeah. You remember not wanting me to touch you?”

“Wasn’t that long ago,” Higgs grumbles. 

“Guess not,” Sam agrees. It hasn’t even been a year since he brought Higgs back from the Beach. “Lot’s changed, though.” So, so very much has changed. Higgs had been an unknown, not so very long ago. Someone Sam wasn’t so sure he could trust, and then he’d saved Sam’s life, saved the village, from the shark.

Now, Sam honestly can’t imagine his life without him.


	44. Chapter 44

They manage to nod off, on the couch, wrapped around each other. Sam is slow to wake up, peeling himself away from Higgs carefully, so he can avoid waking the man as he sets to making coffee. 

Sam isn’t some master genius; he’s a porter. He’s never been the go-getter, the person who’s in charge and knows everything about everyone. Sam has always been perfectly content only knowing what he needs to know, and nothing more. He’s just your normal, average guy, who also has been turned semi-immortal by the person who exists to bring about the end of the world.

Maybe the answers to the questions about their connection aren’t so important. Who cares why they’re sharing dreams, why they were brought together and connected in the first place; it feels so much nicer to just be together.

They’re here, this is their life. They need to accept it for what it is.

What matters to Sam is figuring out what they can actually do, with their powers working in tandem. He isn’t interested in defending the entire country, in protecting every Knot City, every satellite town, every prepper living out in the middle of nowhere. He wants to protect the village, this life he’s put together for himself.

The life he has with Higgs.

It’s incredibly selfish, he knows it’s selfish, but Sam thinks he’s allowed to be selfish. He’d done his part a long, long time ago. The entire country can’t rely on him alone.

Maybe there are ways the two of them can strengthen the bond, to their own benefit. A way to help each other, help the rest of the village. He’ll have to ask, to see if Higgs even wants to. Sam isn’t sure they’d be able to do much of anything, really. Lucy had been born before the Stranding; his connection with her had been the old-fashioned kind, one that none of the people alive today remember. But Higgs— his connection to Higgs is so powerful now, Sam doubts he needs a trigger object to find him, so long as he can feel the connection out.

It’s not like he expects them to work miracles, but… well. The twins had done incredible things, had practically merged into one person.

Sam doesn’t think they’ll be like the twins, no. Those two had been… unique. 

But Higgs can sense death within chiral storms, and Sam can see BTs. There’s so much good they can do together.

The smell of coffee wakes Higgs, who stretches out like a cat from the couch, looking around blearily for a long moment before he retreats to the bathroom, and Sam listens long enough to hear the water in the shower running before he starts working on breakfast. Higgs leaves the bathroom about fifteen minutes later, and Sam is surprised when he dresses in plain view of Sam instead of hiding away.

He’s definitely gotten better about that, lately. Willing to have Sam see all of him, with his guard down. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in heading out into BT territory later,” Sam says.

Higgs’ head swivels in his direction, frowning. “Why?”

“I want to test something,” Sam says.

“What the hell would you be interested in testing?”

“How our powers work together.”

Higgs frowns, clearly confused. “Ain’t followin’ you, Sammy,” he says.

“I want to know if we can use our powers to protect the village. You bein’ able to sense death, me being able to see gazers clearly. I was already protecting the village on my own, but you’re able to sense death long before I’m close enough to see BTs.” He’s honestly not sure if Higgs will agree or not, and Sam isn’t going to force the issue.

Higgs sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t think my powers were meant to help people,” he murmurs.

“Why not?” Breakfast cooked, they take their conversation to the kitchen table. Higgs looks more frustrated than angry, but he’s still clearly not pleased by the conversation. Even so, he’s not running away from it, like he might have before.

“My powers come from death, Sam.”

It’s Sam’s turn to sigh, even as he starts on the pancakes. “People die, Higgs, that’s a fact of life.” It’s far from a cheerful subject, but Sam watches Higgs relax at the words anyway, like it’s never before occurred to him that there’s a positive to be had. “You’re not killing them, when you take that power. You’re absorbing the force that keeps them stranded here.”

Of course, it’s only a guess, informed by how Sam’s own powers work, but the words have a pronounced effect on Higgs. His eyes go large. “You’re saying I’m freeing them.”

“You are,” Sam says with confidence. “When I cut their umbilical cords, chiralium deposits form. You’re absorbing that chiralium instead. Figure s’why your tears are black.”

Higgs stares at his hands for a long moment. “I’ve never… thought about it like that before.”

“I doubt Amelie wanted you seein’ a positive side to your abilities.”

“Don’t explain why touchin’ me doesn’t trigger your allergy, if I have that much chiralium in me.”

“Well,” Sam says wryly. “I don’t exactly go around lickin’ tears off of your face.”

Higgs huffs a laugh. “Gross,” he says.

“’Gross’?” Sam echoes, laughing himself. “You were the one who licked blood and tar, and God-only-knows what else, off my face.” Maybe it’s a strange thing to laugh about. No— it _is_ a strange thing to laugh about, but Higgs looks so genuinely happy in that moment, the way the corner of his eyes crinkle upward. 

“All right, you’ve convinced me,” he says. “I’ll come with you.”

**

BT territory is a safe distance away from the village, so it takes time getting there, a good four hours, and that’s with the equipment for them to be able to walk at a brisk pace. Higgs looks happy to be outside, even if they are wandering into a troubled area. He hasn’t brought up sensing anything out of the ordinary, though, so Sam takes that as a win.

If it’s just normal death, that’s… well. Business as usual.

“Did you really never find someone, in all the years after extinction was halted?” Higgs asks. Back to self-loathing, then. Even though Sam has no desire to be with anyone else, has tried to indicate as much. 

They live together, share a bed, Sam has _told_ Higgs they’re a team. Why can’t he accept good things happening to him?

“Was too busy being a single dad. After Louise left home, I got busy with other things. Helping out with the village, cleaning up the mess Bridges left… I didn’t want a relationship. Besides, I was going to end up outliving anyone I ended up with. Couldn’t go through that.”

For a long while, Higgs doesn’t say anything. “Why me?”

“Does it matter? It’s you, and that’s how it is. I don’t regret any of it,” he says. “I’m not like you, always thinking about why things work the way they do. It is the way it is, that’s enough for me.”

“It does matter!” Higgs snaps, abruptly stopping, turning to face Sam. “I’m a terrorist! I killed people, Sam. This country has, what, half a fucking million people in it? Tens of thousands of them died in the bombings.”

Sam approaches him, hand stretched out. Higgs doesn’t jerk away, accepts the touch on the side of his face. “You’ve saved my life multiple times. Have been kind to everyone in the village. The things you did under her influence… they weren’t you.”

“But I did them,” Higgs whispers. Tears fall freely on his face, and when they touch Sam’s gloved hands, he’s glad he’s wearing them. Chiral tears on bare skin would trigger his allergy. “I still did them.”

They’re in the middle of the damn snow, having a conversation Sam hadn’t set out to have. It should wait, they’ll need their wits about them if they’re going to see if their separate powers can work together. “Do you still want to do this? We can turn right around and try again another day.”

Higgs shakes his head. “No, I… let’s keep going. We’re nearly there.”

They’re silent the rest of the way, until timefall snow and the familiar sensation of the pressure drop of a BT area means they have to be on high alert. Sam looks around carefully, before seeing a BT that’s a way’s off from the others. He motions for Higgs to follow him, hoping they’re not going to be ambushed. He looks up at it, to the gazer that doesn’t see him at all, with his hand over his mouth. He points upward.

Higgs can’t see it, that’s pretty clear, but he pulls out his hooked chiral gold knife, and moves like he’s perfectly capable of seeing the stranded dead. He slices through the umbilical cord, and in the same movement his hands turn to mist. His face is coated in thick black tears as he grabs at the cord and _yanks._ The BT makes a pained noise, and Sam watches with fascination as chiralium dust falls on Higgs as the gazer floats upwards and vanishes.

As Sam suspected, no chiralium deposit forms on the ground at their feet.

A long moment passes before Higgs picks his knife up from the ground, sheathing it wordlessly. He looks to Sam, bright blue eyes rimmed in black. The gesture he makes is vague, but somehow, Sam can read it without issue. He wants to do more.

They spend the next forty minutes cutting down as many BTs as they can, until Higgs is too tired to continue. It exhausts him in a way that Sam has never felt using the knife on his cufflinks. 

“You did good,” Sam says when they warp back home, and smiles when Higgs leans down to kiss him.


	45. Chapter 45

There’s a domesticity to his life that is going to drive Higgs absolutely insane, he knows it. As a porter, he’d been constantly on the move, using shelters to sleep in, occasionally prepper homes. He knew the countryside like the back of his hand. Wanderlust had sustained him, and suited his lifestyle.

Now, though, things have… changed. A good chunk of the time he’s spent living with Sam has involved almost never leaving the shelter. True, for most of that, he’d been incredibly ill, but it doesn’t change the fact that, with his slow change into something approaching the man he used to be, the shelter has become a little uncomfortable, and the village with its underground walls and hallways doesn’t help alleviate the sense that he’s been in one place for too long.

But Higgs isn’t going to up and leave, no matter how uncomfortable he feels.

Especially because Higgs knows he’s going to be in a bad way if he wanders off somewhere without Sam.

So he’ll have to convince Sam to go out wandering with him. It doesn’t have to be anywhere in particular; it could even be a BT area again. He’d felt like he was doing something, when he’d been cutting the tethers of BTs. He’s pretty sure he could keep doing that. So very different from being hooked up to purgatory. The voidout had given him a major boost in the form of object manipulation; cutting down gazers can’t give him that sort of power. He’s not sure he wants power anymore, anyway.

But it had felt _right._ As though maybe cutting BTs free from their abysmal tethers had been his true purpose all along. His reward for shepherding the dead is more time to sense them, more time to free even more of the stranded dead.

…Speaking of Sam, the man chooses just now to lean over the side of the couch from the kitchen area to kiss the corner of Higgs’ mouth. 

Higgs feels his face grow hot. He’s never going to get used to the tiny motes of affection.

“You told me your name comes from the thing that binds everything else together,” Sam says.

“Sure does,” Higgs agrees, not understanding the line of thinking. He almost never understands Sam’s train of thought when he gets vague like this.

“And you know my name is Bridges.”

“You really _do_ take this destiny bullshit seriously, don’t you?” Higgs scoffs. The Sam he knew from before would have spurned such a role, had actively repelled it. There’s a twinkle in Sam’s eyes, and it makes Higgs frown. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

Sam laughs quietly. “I am,” he agrees. “But you have to admit, it’s a funny coincidence, isn’t it? Our names both involve connections.”

“I guess.”

Sam heads back into the kitchen area, “You want to help out in communal spaces again? I’ve got some work to do in the kitchen and greenhouse. Got another party coming up pretty soon,” he says with a smirk. “Another kid, of course.”

“You really want me around for that?”

The look Sam gives him is hard to read. “Of course I do,” he says.

**

That’s how Higgs finds himself, a couple hours later, in the communal kitchen hand-washing dishes. It still strikes him as odd; vaguely uncomfortable, when he’d rather be outside, moving from place to place. He’ll probably sit outside the shelter this evening, pretend he can watch the sunset, see the orange haze when the sun starts to dip below the horizon. Maybe he’ll watch ancient videos of the sun on the Chiral, footage that had been made by people who never had to wonder what was outside of their tiny, insignificant globe.

Even before Amelie, he’d been full of himself, thinking that he alone was special, was the only one who could lead people to a better future.

If there was one thing Amelie’s presence and subsequent abandonment had done for him, it was that she’d completely quashed the notion that Higgs was special in any way.

The sound of chairs scraping against the concrete floor snaps Higgs out of his thoughts, and he turns to see three people settling into them— a man, a woman, and a girl who looks to be a bit older than Abby. He thinks he recognizes them from Abby’s party, but he’s not sure. He’d been so busy trying to make sure he didn’t fuck up his chance at impressing Sam he doesn’t remember the party very well.

The man notices Higgs first, adjusting his glasses as he speaks. “Oh! Sorry about that, I didn’t realize people were getting ready so quickly.” He beams a smile.

“It ain’t today, is it?” Higgs is pretty sure Sam would have told him if the party was _today._

“No, no,” the man quickly adds. “It’s just usually everything’s left for the last moment.”

He’s now entirely uncertain as to why a family would be out in the communal space, then. Preppers usually stay put in their shelters, never venturing out for any reason. The girl and the woman sit down, though, and Higgs watches with a little bafflement as the woman pulls out a very thick looking textbook, and the girl paper and pencils.

“There I go rambling again— I’m Greg,” the man says, and adjusts his glasses again. Higgs is pretty certain it’s a nervous tick.

“Higgs,” he replies. “I’d greet ya properly, but my hands are covered in dishwater.” He hopes it comes across as light, and with the chuckle Greg gives he figures it’s successful. 

For a moment, Greg pauses, frowning, and then he brightens. “Oh, I know who you are! You’re Sam’s boyfriend, aren’t you? You were at Abby’s birthday party.”

Higgs can feel the heat shoot across his face. Jesus, not just a child, but the adults, too? “Uh,” he says, taking a moment to stack the dishes to dry and hopefully not look like he’s blushing like an idiot child. “Yeah. That’s me.” As Higgs finishes drying his hands, Greg motions for him to join them at the table. He does, feeling uncomfortable.

He hasn’t… he’s never… He and Sam have never discussed what to call their relationship. Higgs has been perfectly content thinking of it as being what it is. He wants Sam; Sam clearly wants him. That’s good enough for Higgs. But the idea of _other people_ being aware of it, of seeing what he is, that they’ll all judge him as not worthy of Sam Porter Bridges… 

There are too many people here, and Higgs doesn’t trust himself to not fuck it up somehow. Not even when they go around the table introducing themselves. Linda, who knowing an astonishing amount of information on entomology; and Jenny, who’s the birthday kid this time around, turning ten. Higgs is honestly surprised how well he and Linda hit it off. Every question Higgs can think to ask her she’s able to answer, and tells him about her extensive collection of preserved pre-Stranding insects.

He almost doesn’t notice when Sam emerges from the hallway connecting to the greenhouse, covered in dirt. He offers a quick hello to the others before he leans into Higgs’ space, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. It happens so quickly it doesn’t occur to Higgs immediately that they’d just kissed in front of an audience, even if there was nothing inappropriate about it. 

Sam joins them at the table, still covered in dirt. “Doin’ homework?” he asks, peering at the notes Jenny’s written.

“Yep,” Jenny says, sounding bored.

They stay there for a while until being around a bunch of strangers talking cheerfully becomes too much for Higgs to bear, and he excuses himself. Sam doesn’t even hesitate, standing up from his chair and following Higgs down the hall. It’s only a few seconds before Higgs hears someone walking quickly down the hall, and turns to see Greg.

“Sam,” he says. “Sorry— tried to get your attention.”

“No problem, Greg,” Sam says, looking puzzled, like maybe he didn’t hear the guy approach, either.

“I just— well. I’ve lived here my entire life, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so happy.” Greg presses his glasses up the bridge of his nose again. “Anyway, that’s… that’s all. I’ll see you at Jenny’s party.” He heads back to the communal area as Higgs gives Sam a searching look. 

Sam is… happy? With _him_ here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thank you once again to everyone who has left comments and kudos, it means a lot!


	46. Chapter 46

When it comes time for the birthday party, a part of Sam is expecting Higgs to refuse to go, but he’s dressed nicely, and even though he stands a half a foot taller than Sam, seems like he’s doing what he can to make himself small. As always, the tattoos on his forehead stand out, but the polite demeanor and charming words means that nobody does much more than stare curiously at them.

Nobody but Abby, that is. Though she’s seen Higgs’ tattoos before, it seems like she’s only now worked up the courage to ask him about them. “Why do you have those funny symbols on your face?”

“Ah,” Higgs says hesitantly, and Sam can’t help the smile when Higgs leans up against him. Still using Sam as a security blanket in public, then. “Have you ever done something you thought was a good idea, and then realized later it wasn’t?”

“Yes,” Abby says seriously. “For my birthday, I ate three slices of cake.”

Higgs laughs. “See? It’s sorta like that.”

Sam gets the feeling that’s not all there is to it, nor does he necessarily think Higgs regrets the tattoos, but it’s an explanation that’s readily accepted by the rest of the table. They’ve all done strange things in the past, and Higgs is still someone everyone implicitly trusts because of his connection to Sam.

The rest of the party passes completely smoothly, and Sam is delighted when Higgs and Linda get into an animated discussion about bugs. 

They’re both incredibly closed-off people, but Sam can’t be the only person Higgs interacts with. If they live long enough, it’ll end up happening eventually. There’s no reason for it to happen now. Friends, connections… they’re important things.

Sam doesn’t have a goddamn clue what they’re talking about— and honestly, by the sounds of the questions Higgs is asking, he doesn’t know much either. 

Always hungry for knowledge, that sums Higgs up well.

If that’s what helps Higgs reach out to people and speak with the rest of the villagers, Sam is entirely okay with it.

**

Once back in their shelter, Sam resting against Higgs’ chest for a change, Sam is amazed at how easy-going Higgs looks. He didn’t drop all the tension in his body upon returning home, which means that Higgs hadn’t actually been tense during the party.

Their hands intertwined, it takes Sam a moment to realize what Higgs is doing, when he lifts their hands up enough so he can look at the tattoo on Sam’s right hand. “You do this yourself?” Sam’s a little surprised that Higgs is only noticing it now. Maybe it’s a result of the downtime, or the fact that Higgs is holding Sam instead of the other way around. 

“Yeah,” Sam says. He spent most of his life not letting people get close enough to him to have someone do the tattoo for him. It had been a mark of defiance against Bridget for his 19th birthday. A tattoo kit, and a fortunately steady enough aim with his left hand “You did yours, right?”

“Mm-hm.”

Sam cranes his neck to get a good look at Higgs, at how steady the lettering is. At how, as far as Sam can see anyway, the writing isn’t backwards. “How’d you manage that?” Higgs’ eyebrows do a good job of hiding the lowest tattoos, but Sam can still see them peeking through in a few places. It’s a funny thought to have, after all the months Higgs has been living with him, but he actually manages to look a little strange with eyebrows on his face.

“I was careful.”

Sam brings his free hand up to touch at Higgs’ cheek, and smiles when he leans against the touch. “Was it before or after you decided you never wanted to show your face to people again?” he asks, because Higgs looks so relaxed in the moment.

“After,” Higgs murmurs.

It’s the answer Sam had been expecting, honestly.

He doesn’t want Higgs sinking down another dark path, not tonight. 

“I was thinking of the Extinction Entity, from a while back… It reminded me of a conversation I had a long time ago. I remember some of the things I was told, when I worked for Bridges.”

“Such as?”

“Well. Heartman told me about creatures found frozen in time. Not dead, not fossils, just… frozen. At least one person, too.” Higgs doesn’t say anything, letting Sam continue to speak. “He told me he thought maybe they were all Extinction Entities. But I’ve been thinking… he brought up so many examples, they can’t all be Extinction Entities, not unless they’re able to refuse to use their powers. Doesn’t seem likely, does it?”

“What’re you proposing?” Higgs asks curiously.

“I think, maybe, they were repatriates. Some of ‘em. Maybe extinction isn’t the only thing caused by a single entity. Maybe the Death Stranding is the same way.”

“Y’don’t have an umbilical cord,” Higgs drawls. “Nothin’ like the Extinction Entities are supposed to have.”

“I did.”

“Don’t think that’s the same thing, Sammy,” Higgs says, even as he rests his head against Sam’s. “Unless you’re sayin’ all Bridge Babies are Extinction Entities, which seems unlikely.”

He’s pretty sure Higgs is just being contrary. Sam doesn’t really mind, though. He’s comfortable, and Higgs hasn’t let go of his hand. “Maybe there’s always a herald, always a ‘bridge’,” Sam says quietly. 

Higgs doesn’t say anything in response, frowning instead. He looks thoughtful, so Sam doesn’t say anything else. He’s still completely comfortable with the quiet in a way that Higgs just isn’t, but Sam thinks Higgs has started to get used to it. At least, he’s accepted that silence doesn’t mean he doesn’t have Sam’s attention. “I wouldn’t know,” Higgs says finally. “Ain’t like I got secret knowledge from the cosmos or anything. Turns out, I didn’t know everything about the Death Stranding, either.”

Sam wonders if, when he was trapped on the Beach he’d been exiled to, his inability to cross the waters to the other side had been a result of being trapped firmly with one foot in the land of the living, and the other in the land of the dead. Maybe it’s literally impossible for him to move on. Higgs may be connected to death, but Sam had spent most of his life connected to neither. Even now, with powers that have come from his connections to the living, Sam borders on feeling entirely disconnected.

About the only person he’s never felt disconnected from is Higgs. It’d been that way before, too. When they’d been enemies. 

“It sounds ridiculous, I know,” Sam says. 

Higgs shrugs. “Ain’t a single thing about the whole situation that doesn’t sound ridiculous. It still happened. Has been happening the entire life of the planet, even.” He’s smirking a little, though. Amused by the conversation more than trapped in his dark thoughts. It even reaches his eyes, which is a change. “You think there were any others like us?”

As usual, with them, there are so many things left unstated by the question. If Sam hadn’t been living with Higgs for the last half a year, it might be an ambiguous enough statement he wouldn’t know what Higgs is getting at, but he knows what he means now. “Dunno. You think the creatures who came before us are capable of it?”

“Depends on which ones you’re talkin’ about,” Higgs says, and Sam knows he’s in for a long explanation. 

“Solitary species, almost certainly not. Even most animals that live communally aren’t exactly capable of it, or only pair up temporarily.” He squeezes at Sam’s hand, looking thoughtful. “Reckon it’s most common in mammals. Even then it’s rare. Wolves, otters, that sort of thing. Most of ‘em who do it are family groups. A daddy and a mama, doin’ it all together. I think that counts, is close enough to what we are, as far as animals go.” He’s quiet for a moment, thinking. “People, though, that might be more likely. But it don’t make sense, given how long time goes between extinction events. Maybe there have been plenty of itty, bitty ones in the past.”

Sam wonders if Higgs is aware of just what he’s saying, of what he’s implying.

“Makes us sound pretty unique,” Sam says.

“The herald of death and the Death Stranding. We make quite a pair,” Higgs drawls. He presses his palm against the side of Sam’s face, and they shift position, Sam laying on the couch, Higgs on top. “Makes me feel all warm inside, like I’m breakin’ some cosmic rules.” Sam isn’t surprised at all when Higgs leans in to kiss him, welcoming it.

“Not sure how,” Sam says dryly when the kiss breaks. “What rules were we supposed to follow?”

“Dunno,” Higgs admits, but he’s still smiling. “It feels like cheating.”

“In case you’ve forgotten,” Sam says, groaning a little when Higgs’ cold hands slide up underneath the hem of his shirt, “The Death Stranding was on the side of life.”

“I’m not forgettin’,” Higgs says, pulling Sam’s shirt clean off of him, dumping it on the floor. “That’s precisely my point.” He stares openly at Sam’s scar; it’s such a different look than Lucy would give him. She’d always looked at it in a mix of pity and alarm, and asked him about it more than once. It was never like the way Higgs stares at him, with open desire.

Higgs flings his own shirt off onto the floor. He’s getting more confident, willing to show skin around Sam. Eager, even.

“You really plannin’ on doin’ this on the couch?” Sam asks, more amused than anything else despite the words. He’s fine with it, truthfully. It’s a little exciting. And he’s more than willing to help Higgs get rid of the rest of their clothes.

“Yeah, maybe,” Higgs says, even as he works on undressing himself, erection already straining his pants.

It takes maybe three minutes for them to completely strip, Higgs sliding onto Sam’s lap, aligning their dicks together. Sam’s mind reels, struck by the absurdity of having an active sex life after decades of having no interest in it whatsoever, even as Higgs’ mouth encircles his own. The kiss is as messy as it is passionate, and Sam moans when Higgs’ calloused hand wrap around both their lengths.

“Fuck,” Sam whimpers. He rocks his hips against Higgs, earning a loud moan from the other man, panted obscenities. The noises Higgs makes are intoxicating, and he hasn’t stopped the rhythmic motions of his hand.

“Jesus, Sam,” Higgs pants. His face is completely flushed, eyes barely half-open, hooded by long lashes. “You’re so…” he trails off, making too many noises to say anything else. Sam wraps an arm around the back of Higgs’ neck, dimly aware of the noises he must be making, but ignoring them in favor of pressing their foreheads together, kissing with open mouths as Higgs makes a strangle noise and Sam groans. They cum at practically the same time, and Higgs slumps against Sam, breathing erratically, but with a satisfied grin on his face.

Higgs doesn’t speak again until his breathing has evened out, the grin on his lips telling Sam he’s in for trouble before he’s even spoken. “Fantastic job by the Man who Delivers. Think I might have to keep you.”

Sam laughs. “You’re such an asshole,” he says, resting his head against Higgs’. He’s too relaxed, too caught up in the afterglow for it to sound anything but affectionate.

All Higgs does is smile at him, lazy and knowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the length of time between updates; I'm still working on this, and have it all plotted out through the end of the fic.
> 
> Around the time this chapter was written, I was linked to [an article](https://www.nationalgeographic.com/animals/2020/05/snakes-have-friends-adding-to-evidence-animal-sociability/) that I thought was fascinating given Higgs' theory.


	47. Chapter 47

It seems like every time they step outside, something bad happens, or they’re off to do something reckless and stupid. Not that Higgs can really complain. “Reckless and stupid” has been his motto for his entire life. It’s actually worked out for him in the past, though, got him plenty of attention, and the approval of the separatists. Edge Knot had, at one point, enjoyed its fiercely protected independence, and had come to see the man in the skull mask as someone they could depend on.

Someone who spurned the UCA every chance he got, flaunted that independence to the approval of the people who lived in the Western Region. He’d been a show-off, but that hadn’t changed the fact that he’d liked the people of the region, had thought them people to help.

…he hasn’t changed much, living with Sam.

He’s still been reckless, even if he’s tried to keep the suicidal behavior to a minimum. 

Higgs is pretty sure he can’t get himself into trouble over this, though.

Sam’s idea for them to set out somewhere outside, in a way only porters are capable of, just for some relaxation? He can get behind that, very easily. They’re still in their ridiculous porter suit getups, but Higgs doesn’t mind so much, when they don’t have several kilos of luggage strapped on their backs; and Sam is telling Higgs about how the hot spring is still up in the mountains, still warm, still comfortable. Sam reaches up to touch Higgs’ shoulder, and they talk cheerfully about nothing in particular as they walk.

Higgs has never tried using the hot spring up in the mountains, before, so when he arrives, he looks over it with a little hesitation. “Isn’t it gonna be cold when we get out?” he asks.

Sam laughs, patting him on the back. “Nervous?” he teases. “I brought some towels, you’ll be fine.”

So that’s how he finds himself, ten minutes later, relaxed in the spring, leaning against the artificial wall. Higgs hadn’t been aware of how tense, how stiff he’d been feeling until he’d spent a good few minutes just soaking in the hot water. It’s not like he can stretch out all the way in the tub at home. He’s much too tall for that, and using the tub with Sam is right out. This hot spring is incredible. He lets out a little moan, stretching his toes out, flexing sore muscles underneath the water.

Sam looks positively amused, sliding up next to him. “I do have good ideas from time to time,” he says, his tone light and chiding. 

“And it’s not even my birthday,” Higgs sighs, letting all his limbs relax.

The other man laughs. “Do you even know when your birthday is?”

“Not at all!” Higgs admits cheerfully. “But I’ve always thought I’m probably an Aries.” 

Sam laughs again. “You really believe that superstitious stuff? We can’t even see the constellations.” 

“It ain’t superstition,” Higgs mutters. “C’mon, I’ll prove it to ya. What’s your birthday?”

Sam looks doubtful, but with his hair in his face, all wild and untamed, Higgs can’t help think of the man as ridiculously handsome. “November Nineth,” he says after a pause. He looks to Higgs expectantly, and Higgs can’t help the grin.

“ _Sammy boy,_ ” Higgs says. “You’re the most stereotypical Scorpio I’ve ever met. You’re stubborn, prickly, and extremely blunt.”

“So are you,” Sam yawns, “you can’t go listing off random personality traits and claim somethin’ about the stars makes you more likely to have that trait.” Higgs would be offended, but Sam leans against him, and it distracts him from getting annoyed. Sam’s eyes are so pretty, it’s entirely unfair. 

“You have no sense of adventure,” Higgs pouts. “Lots of people have done research on how star signs can affect DOOMS.” Sam looks at him, opening his mouth to speak. Higgs _knows_ what he’s going to say, so he interrupts before Sam can say anything. “Not seein’ the stars doesn’t mean they stop existing, Sam.”

Sam closes his mouth, frowning. “Next thing you’re gonna tell me is how Arieses and Scorpios are soulmates or something.”

Higgs snorts, sliding further into the water. “Not at all, actually. I think a better description would be lighting a match next to an open barrel of gasoline.”

That gets Sam to bark a laugh so loud he chokes. 

The laugh spurns Higgs on. “The sex is amazing, it’s everything _else_ that’s a fucking mess.”

Sam takes a moment to respond, frowning thoughtfully. “That doesn’t really sound like us. It’s not like we’ve come to blows or anything like that. We get on each other’s nerves, sure, but that comes with having a relationship.” He wraps an arm around Higgs, pulling them close. Their foreheads touch, Higgs just taking in the moment. Lets his eyes fall shut. “We’re a team; please don’t think otherwise.”

“Fine, fine,” Higgs mutters. “It’s not like I’m planning my life around it or anything. It’s just fun.”

He’s faintly annoyed, now, at how easy it is for Sam to calm him back down. It hadn’t been like that before, when they were enemies. Sam had not been a soothing presence, someone Higgs sought out because he quelled every self-loathing thought he ever had. Fucking water signs. They have all of these _problems_ , actual problems, and Sam can shove those horrible thoughts in Higgs’ head aside with no effort on his part.

Does Sam have dark thoughts? Does being around Higgs help him? It seems so impossible, so ridiculously absurd, the idea that Higgs has ever had a positive impact on anyone. Daddy had tried to beat the arrogance out of him, and all it had really done was make Higgs more determined to prove Daddy wrong.

Turns out the bastard had been right about Higgs all along.

“Tell me more about our horoscope?”

He’s so thrown by the question it takes Higgs a moment to process it. After all that, and Sam _wants_ Higgs to talk about it more? “Well,” Higgs drawls. “ _Supposedly_ , it’s pretty easy for us to trust each other. Shit’ll fall apart if we don’t, but I don’t think that’s been an issue for us, has it?” His thoughts are always more inward than they are anything approaching concerns about Sam actually, truly leaving. And what could they really hide from each other?

They’re going to outlive everyone in the village, and will always feel awful when they’re not within a reasonable proximity of each other.

That sort of bond goes beyond sex, beyond any relationship Higgs could even conceive of. “So. There you have it. All kinds of trust. Too bad we’re shit at communication,” he shrugs. 

“We’re not that bad,” Sam argues, but the bastard is smiling. He’s enjoying this. 

“Fine, go ahead and refute everything I have to say,” Higgs mutters, but there’s no heat to it at all. It should be more than obvious he’s content, since he’s still pressed up right against Sam. Sam doesn’t say anything else, though, and Higgs feels faintly hot in the face at the idea that he’s just being messed with again, Sam teasing him. Just waiting for Higgs to keep talking.

Jesus, Sam is too much.

“ _I’m_ shit at communication,” Higgs says, hoping Sam isn’t going to argue this much. “I don’t like how easy it is for you to read my face, when I don’t even know how the hell to feel.” That gets Sam to touch him, to comb fingers through his hair.

“I’ll always listen,” he says. “However long it takes.”

It would be so much easier if Higgs didn’t fail spectacularly at trying to keep his emotions under control.

“’Preciate it,” he mumbles into Sam’s shoulder. He feels so small all of a sudden, up against Sam, even though he’s much, much taller. “Guess I should extend the offer, right?” he asks, uncertain. Still not used to what’s expected of him, when the relationship isn’t give, give, give. 

Sam smiles at him, warm and affectionate. “Already done it, when you listened to me about my father. Still means a lot to me.”

It’s not really what Higgs meant, but that awful, twisted part of him that seeks out praise swells at the words, that he’s done something that still earns approval months after the fact.


	48. Chapter 48

The trip to the hot spring isn’t a one-time thing. By the end of the month they’ve gone eight more times. 

Higgs knows the reasoning behind needing to bring weapons with them— hell, he _always_ had grenades on him before. But they’ve been up and down the mountain all the time and have never run into trouble, and Sam can warp on top of that.

It’s stupid. A waste of resources, but Higgs still finds himself grateful to have stock of weapons nearby. The sort of paranoia you develop when you spend most of your life outdoors, and are keenly aware that there could be a threat lurking anywhere doesn’t ever go away. But not a lot of people live up here, in the mountains.

An afternoon soak is just what he needs, and when they start back down the mountain, Higgs has a ridiculous grin plastered on his face.

“You look cheerful,” Sam observes with a smirk.

Higgs doesn’t bother denying it. “Been enjoyin’ myself the last coupla weeks,” he purrs.

Sam laughs quietly, reaching up to pat at Higgs shoulder.

He still doesn’t know what to do with the affection, not really. He likes it, it’s just… different. Not something he expected from Sam.

Peaceful, something he didn’t know that he needed.

The moment doesn’t last long, though, the darkening sky quickly catches their attention. “Wasn’t a storm on the radar,” Sam says. His tone may be measured, but Higgs can pick up on the notes of alarm in it. Higgs’ hand is already reaching for the rifle at his side when the storm fully hits, scanning the area anxiously for BTs. He’s gained some semblance of power back, with his and Sam’s trips into BT territory to cut the monsters loose from their tethers. But Higgs’ ability to see them is still limited; they’re fuzzy, and flicker in and out of sight.

He trusts that sixth sense of his, the one that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end when he gets too close, more than he trusts his eyes to tell him where the BTs are. It had been that way for most of his life; relying on it once more had been easy to get used to.

It’s much more comforting than the powers given to him by the Extinction Entity. Natural-feeling, or at least as natural as DOOMS gets. More and more people seem to be born with it, these days, from what he’s been able to glean on the Chiral. Some sort of super-charged evolution, taking a few generations instead of tens of millions of years.

Convenient, but Higgs has seen the future; humanity ain’t gonna survive. 

…Well. If humanity can last long enough so Abby can grow up, he’ll take it.

Higgs stops walking when he feels the Pull. That snaking sensation down his spine, like suddenly all of his nerves are hooked up to strings; like his body is a marionette. The feeling is alarmingly pleasant, soothing and gentle, numbing the anxiety and the cold. _Give in,_ it says, and he wants to. He wants to so badly. _It’ll feel so good; all you have to do is give in._ Being the herald had been his duty, it was his purpose to spread the word of the apocalypse. He’d abandoned that, and now destiny is trying to course correct.

He hadn’t even needed to worry about thinking, because the Extinction Entity had taken care of that for him. He’d been the villain of Sam’s story, a puppet compelled to fight a battle he had no actual interest in. Higgs had never once gotten into a fistfight in the entirety of his life on the surface, and the battle had shown it. He’d gladly given into the Extinction Entity, because he’d felt so hollow, so empty. So lonely.

The scary part is how every problem he’d ever had, every worry that ever crossed his mind, had vanished. It was mania, not actual happiness. 

Like fuck is Higgs letting that happen again, letting something twist and mold him into the perfect weapon, extinguish every bit that makes Higgs _Higgs_ , all because of powers he never fucking asked for in the first place.

He bites down on his lip hard enough he tastes blood, and the Pull becomes manageable again, the voice ebbing away. 

He’s not alone. Not anymore.

“Higgs?” even if he wasn’t looking at Sam, he’d be able to pick up on the terror from tone alone.

“That… pull again,” he manages with more effort than he wants to admit. “Hard to hold on to myself.”

“How’d you break free?”

Higgs sighs, because he’s pretty sure his mouth is going to fucking hurt for the next month. “Thought of you,” he mutters.

Sam reaches out and touches him, and it feels _right._ He’s not sure how long it’s been since Sam’s touch stopped bothering him at all. “We need to keep going,” he says. “It’ll probably just follow us up to the village, if we don’t.” And Higgs doesn’t want that, not at all. 

“Is that really you talkin’?” Sam looks at him seriously, and he thinks the question should offend him, but it doesn’t. Sam knows Higgs, the real Higgs, not the one created by the Extinction Entity.

“Please trust me, Sammy. I don’t want any of ‘em to get hurt.”

Sam reaches out with a gloved hand to brush against the side of his face. “I trust you.” 

**

They keep walking. For how long, Higgs isn’t certain. It’s taking tremendous effort to keep his mind clear of the Pull, but Sam’s presence so close by, all of the nights they’ve spent embracing each other, Higgs letting Sam see all of him, all those broken parts… And Sam has still wanted him. Higgs had made his life a living hell a century ago, and Sam still wants him.

That knowledge is keeping him sane, he’s pretty sure.

The Pull is still there, but he has something else to focus on.

“How does this work, exactly? It’s not like a catcher, I take it.”

“No,” Higgs agrees. “It’s more like… like an avatar. Its Ka is on the Beach, but it can create… shadows, I guess? That can act close enough to a BT to give you a bad time.” Actually defeating it is completely impossible, but making it clear Higgs is having no part in this bullshit any longer? He’ll gladly do that.

Drive it back, maybe wreck its day a little bit. He doesn’t understand how any of this is possible, but there’s a small part of him that thinks it’s a little exhilarating to show defiance in the face of the Extinction Entity in a way he’d been completely incapable of before.

“Gotta chase it away so we don’t lead it home, then,” Sam says.

“Yeah.” It sounds a little suicidal. The advantage of having death decide it doesn’t want either of them is a little hollow when Higgs considers the fact that a lot of innocent people would lose their lives upon failure.

Higgs is more than a little apprehensive, because the last time they’d gotten close to it, he’d felt himself sinking away, even as he’d tried to fight it. It was different, then, because that had been before they’d started to sort themselves out. But it doesn’t change the fact that he was slipping away in that moment, and had done the only thing he could think to do, to force Sam to safety.

“Sam, I need you to promise me something,” he says as he stops walking. 

“What?” Sam looks like he doesn’t understand, frowning with worried eyes as he looks at Higgs.

“If it looks like I’m fading away, like it’s gotten ahold of me, you need to kill me. Confuse it long enough you can get the hell away from here, evacuate th—”

Rough hands grab hold of his shoulders, and suddenly Higgs feels like he’s the smaller of the two, like he’s looking up at Sam’s hurt, angry eyes, not looking down at them. “No,” Sam says. “No, I’m not going to promise that. I’m not gonna do it. I’m not hurtin’ you.” Higgs opens his mouth to argue, but Sam speaks before he can, tears plainly visible in his eyes. “No, goddammit. This isn’t up for discussion. I’m _not_ hurtin’ you!”

It’s a mistake, Sam is making a mistake. But Higgs leans against him, “All right,” he says. He knows better than to argue about this, not when they’re so close to danger. “Got it.”

“Good,” Sam says, and he lets go, fingers touching Higgs’ for just a moment.

They keep walking.

He’s not sure how long they walk for, because all of Higgs’ focus is on keeping his mind clear from outside influence. He only knows when he feels the prickling sensation on the back of his neck, the sixth sense telling him BTs are nearby. Higgs doesn’t look up, because he needs his focus clear, and he can sense them well enough he doesn’t need to look where he’s going.

His hand goes to the weapon at his side, just to confirm it’s there. That he can do this; can fight back. Higgs just needs the fucking thing to show itself.

And it does. It does show itself, like it’s been fucking waiting for them, black tar leaking from under the snow as they both scramble to one of the ancient roofs that have burst through the tar. “Just try and take me this time, you bastard!” Higgs snarls. The Extinction Entity doesn’t speak, probably _can’t_ speak when it’s just an antimatter shadow. He’s the one who shoots first, empties the entire goddamn hematic clip into the fucking monster. It’s hard, impossible even, to tell if the Extinction Entity is startled by Higgs’ behavior, startled by his refusal, because it rears up with a horrible noise, slamming against the platform they stand on, forcing a quick retreat to another ancient, crumbling building.

Sam fires upon it too, and though the intentions of a long-gone Extinction Entity are unknowable, Higgs still thinks the goal is to cut _him_ off, to break the bond he has with Sam. Higgs knows it’s not possible; Higgs is connected to death, and Sam is the source of his powers. Successfully severing their connection would probably kill both of them. Likely permanently. 

The battle passes in such a blur, Higgs isn’t aware of its end until his knees give out, collapsing onto snow and not tar.

“Jesus,” Sam breaths. “Is it gone?”

“I don’t think so,” Higgs says. “Not permanently. It’s an Extinction Entity.” Not something that can be defeated, not something that’s _meant_ to be defeated. It’s the planet’s kill switch, unkillable, invulnerable. “Don’t even know why it’s after me in the first place.” Sam helps him to his feet, looking as exhausted as Higgs feels. 

“Come on, let’s go home,” Sam says.


	49. Chapter 49

The moment they’re back inside the shelter, the door shutting behind them, Higgs is on Sam, using his larger size to his advantage for the first time in what Sam thinks must be a long, long while. He’s pressed up against the wall, pinned, but all Higgs does is lace their fingers together with both hands, and pull him into a passionate kiss. It’s only when the kiss is broken, Sam’s eyes on Higgs’ bitten lip, he thinks briefly that maybe this isn’t such a good idea, but then Higgs nips at his jaw, and Sam makes a startled, throaty noise.

“Jesus, Higgs,” Sam groans, and relaxes against the wall. He could argue that Higgs’ has a swollen lip, but it’s honestly not something that crosses his mind, not when Higgs’ hand goes to the zipper in the front of Sam’s jumpsuit, pulling it down in one long, smooth motion while still using his other hand to keep Sam pinned to the wall.

With one hand free, Sam yanks at the zipper at the front of Higgs’ own jumpsuit, earning a surprised, pleased noise for his effort. 

“Gettin’ eager, Sammy boy,” Higgs chides, like they’re not already stumbling towards the bed, pulling at each other’s clothes, and only collapsing onto the couch long enough to rip off their equipment and scatter it on the floor. Every near-death encounter, every frightening look into the abyss, pulls them further together, ending in impassioned moments where they’re wrapped around each other and nothing else matters.

It’s not a shock when Higgs takes charge again tonight, setting the pace, more even than it’s been in the past, his attention entirely on Sam. All kisses and tender hands. Higgs presses his forehead against Sam’s, one hand wrapping around the back of Sam’s head, his other hand snaking low.

It stretches on forever and lasts only minutes at the same time, and when it ends, Higgs settles next to him, arms wrapped around Sam like a satisfied cat.

It shouldn’t surprise Sam, when after the passion of the moment starts to subside, and both their breathing evens out, that Higgs curls up on top of him, but it does. It seems like Higgs always needs that physicality, needs the touch, and always, always has needed to be clutching onto Sam when he’s about to say something he thinks carries important weight.

“Sam,” he says, his voice as clear as it is quiet. “Sam.” He says the name like a mantra, and hasn’t stopped pressing his palms against bare skin stained with countless handprints. “I love you.” Sam freezes. It’s like time’s stopped. They’ve never put a name to it before, to their connection. But Sam isn’t an idiot, isn’t a child. He’s known the feeling, had felt torn over it on the inside not so long ago. He manages to move his right hand, fingers combing through Higgs’ short dark hair. “I love you,” Higgs repeats. “Think I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Sam’s never put a name to it. Didn’t know how to feel about his feelings for Higgs, didn’t know if he was going to allow himself to love anyone after Lucy. “Yeah,” Sam manages, tipping his head against Higgs’. “Think I have too. Loved you for a long time.”

It’s not as hard to admit as he thought it would be. It comes out easily, and Higgs _smiles_ at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling upward, pale blue eyes filled with so much warmth. “I love you,” Sam repeats.

Higgs cups his face in his hands, looking into Sam’s eyes. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” he murmurs.

“And you called me a sap,” Sam says, glaring.

“You’re still grouchy,” Higgs smirks. He leans in, kisses Sam on the nose. “I like that about you, Sammy.”

All of a sudden, Sam is pretty sure he’s seeing the man Higgs used to be. Easy-going, friendly. Someone who enjoys teasing those he’s close to, however small that number is. It’s like all it took was putting words to their feelings, admitting what’s already there, to erase the lingering doubts Higgs has had about the nature of their relationship.

‘Soulmates’ sounds corny, but that’s what they are, isn’t it? A connection so powerful they can both always feel the other man’s life. It would explain why Sam could barely feel Higgs at all after the first Extinction Entity’s attack. Maybe Higgs had been trapped in the Seam, pulled back by that other half of his strand.

“I’m not that bad,” Sam complains, because as much as he knows Higgs doesn’t know what to do with teasing, Sam has never known how to handle it, either. Most people have never bothered.

Higgs laughs, looking delighted. “I _do_ get to see this grumpy side of you more than anyone else does, don’t I?” He presses his hands to the sides of Sam’s face, “I get to see all of you. When you’re anxious, when you’re feeling overwhelmed…” Despite admitting their love for each other, Higgs still hasn’t changed much at all. It’s such a strange concept, for Sam. It had felt like he’d changed so much with Lucy, but maybe in the end, that hadn’t been true at all. She’d simply been the first person to reach him, to allow Sam to be himself.

_”There’ll be no need for masks soon.”_

Remarkable how, after all this time, it’s the two of them who are able to be around each other without needing to wear masks at all.

Sam lazily presses his lips to the distinct porter scars that wrap around Higgs’ shoulders. Higgs makes quiet, breathy noises; maybe nervous, but doesn’t stop him.

“You should tell me about the book you’re reading,” Sam says abruptly.

“Oh.” Higgs looks a little surprised, a little uncomfortable. He sits up, all of that easy confidence from their conversation shuttering into something closed off again. “You don’t… I mean. It’s not a happy story.”

Sam sits up next to him, frowning. “C’mon, don’t be like that.” He _is_ genuinely interested. Not because he wants to read the book himself, but because he likes hearing Higgs speak passionately about something that isn’t morose. A sad book? Preferable to discussions of death.

Higgs huffs at him. “Suit yourself,” he says, but he’s smiling, just slightly. Sam knows how much Higgs likes talking about the stories he’s reading. He really shouldn’t need an excuse. “Right, so. The narrator, he’s kinda a dick. Don’t much care for folks. Opens his story with talking about a telegram— form of communication before email— he received telling him his mother died, and that he’s not even sure when it happened. ‘Mother died today. Or, maybe, yesterday; I can’t be sure,’” he recites. 

…Yeah. The narrator does sound like a dick. 

“So. The narrator isn’t exactly the sort of person who has any emotional connection with people. He does what he wants; agrees to help his friend get some petty revenge on a lady, and he goes along with it without question, ‘cause he doesn’t have any empathy for people at all.”

It’s fascinating, watching Higgs explain things, how excited he gets talking about the story, how he leans up against Sam. “So he helps his only friend humiliate the woman he’s seeing, because the friend tells him she’s unfaithful. He sees no reason not to consider this the truth; doesn’t really care whatsoever, honestly. Doesn’t like people enough to give a shit about her feelings. It goes about as well as you’d expect. Her brother comes along lookin’ for trouble, and the narrator takes this gun from his friend to keep ‘im from doin’ something stupid.”

By Higgs’ tone, Sam has a guess what’s going to come next. “So, the narrator’s out in the heat, probably gotten himself heatstroke; nasty stuff. He encounters the girl’s brother, who threatens him. He shoots the guy dead, and then shoots ‘im several more times for the hell of it. Doesn’t bother tryin’ to justify it to the reader, either.” He shakes his head, shrugging. “Anyway, that’s how far I’ve read.”

“What’s the guy’s name?”

“Meursault,” Higgs says. And though the name doesn’t sound like one he’s ever heard before, Sam has no doubt Higgs is pronouncing it correctly.

“Hope you’re not sayin’ you think you’re like Meursault,” Sam says, teasing.

“Naw,” Higgs says cheerfully. “It’s just an interestin’ book, Sammy.” His expression is sly, mischievous, and Sam is positive he’s done talking about the book. That’s fine, Sam can always ask him more about it later. “Now, Sam,” he purrs, leaning fully into Sam’s space, so close their lips touch as he speaks. “We’re goin’ to have a bit more fun, aren’t we? It’d be a shame not to celebrate the occasion.”

“You’re insatiable,” Sam grumbles, not bothered in the slightest when Higgs leans in to kiss him passionately.

“You love it, sweetheart,” Higgs whispers, smiling against Sam’s lips. The nickname makes Sam tense, a million times more flustering than every single time Higgs has ever called him ‘Sammy’. He can’t deny it, though. Not with Higgs’ hands all over him, the soft touches and rough hands. When Higgs wraps a hand around the back of his neck, he melts against the touch. Doesn’t stop him from trying to deny it, anyway.

“What if I don’t?” Sam challenges, but doesn’t give Higgs time to respond, kissing him again instead.

“Calling your bluff, Bridges,” Higgs murmurs when the kiss breaks.

Sam’s only response is a broad smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ever wondered whether or not I'm pulling random books off my shelf for Higgs to read, the answer for the most part is yes, though admittedly I don't own The Stranger. I read it for fun when I was in high school, but I remember it well enough to think Higgs would love it.
> 
> I'm sorry for the length between updates. I haven't had a chance to work on the fic in a while, though fortunately I do have a backlog of several chapters.
> 
> I hope the slow burn was worth the wait!


	50. Chapter 50

Sam dreams. It feels weightless, even for a dream, where nothing ever feels exactly real. Unless it’s a vision, and then it feels both real and not simultaneously, seeing what may be real events played backwards, or real events somehow twisted, like Higgs appearing before Sam dressed in Bridges getup, showing off how thin and lanky he actually is, compared to the bulky armor he was always wearing.

He floats like he’s in the Seam, disembodied and aimless.

There’s nothing but the haze of the dream, and the intangible field of color before him.

The dream’s location abruptly shifts, and Sam is startled at what he’s seeing. It’s like two Beaches, overlayed on top of each other, occupying the same exact space at the same exact time. It’s bizarre to look at, dizzying, and the only thing that’s at all in focus is the figure looking out into the sea, at the tide that’s both gently rocking and completely unmoving at the same time.

Even at a distance, Sam knows it’s Higgs. He approaches, feeling even more weightless than he usually does in dreams, but Higgs looks clear, something to focus on in the haze that is their Beaches occupying the same space. He touches Higgs on the shoulder, and though Sam can’t exactly feel it in the strangeness of the dream, Higgs turns around to look at him. “Sam,” he says.

He’s not wearing a mask, though Sam isn’t certain where the thought comes from. 

Higgs stares at Sam for a long moment. Sam isn’t certain if it’s Higgs, or if this is just a dream, but he’s starting to lean towards the former. Higgs reaches out to touch Sam on the side of his face, and while it doesn’t exactly feel real, it’s… something. “Think I’m dreaming,” Sam says, and isn’t surprised when Higgs nods at him.

“Think so too,” he agrees. “How’re we doin’ thing?”

“Not sure,” Sam shrugs. “But we are.” Their location is making him feel strange, and he wants to be somewhere else, somewhere he won’t have to deal with looking at their Beaches blended together. Higgs makes a startled noise, and Sam looks up.

They’re at the hot spring, dressed entirely inappropriately. But it’s a dream; they can’t feel the cold. There are some pretty big advantages to that, though he’s not sure how tangible anything in the dream is going to be. 

“Got a dirty mind, Bridges,” Higgs muses. 

“Shut up,” Sam grumbles, but like this he’s pretty sure it’s actually impossible to hide things from each other. While awake, they can’t read each other’s minds, but dreaming, maybe they’re bleeding together.

Higgs’ grin is mischievous. “Can’t hide things from me, Sammy.” Shit, that confirms that.

“What should we do?” Sam asks, choosing to ignore the comment as best as he can. “Doubt many other people can do this.” If anyone else can at all.

Their location shifts again, and it’s Higgs’ old shelter. Almost. Sam doesn’t remember it too well, beyond the boxes of pizza and pictures of himself scattered everywhere. “Shit,” Higgs curses, which makes Sam think it probably wasn’t intentional. They’re just… doing this, apparently. Dreams flitting them from place to place, thoughts melding together. Sam picks up one of the books off of the floor, and isn’t surprised when it’s blank. It’s not like Sam recognizes the book— there isn’t even a title, and even then he’s not certain he’d be able to read it in the dream.

He’s about to repeat the question, but Higgs raises a finger to his lips. “Maybe see if we can control it a little more. Some sort of… secret meeting place, just for the two of us. ‘Course this might be all for naught if we don’t remember shit when we wake up.”

Sam flips through the book, even though all the pages are blank. He looks to Higgs, curious. Several of the books lay face down, opened, but spine carefully not bent. “I didn’t get to finish reading them,” Higgs says sadly. “Can’t even remember their titles.” 

“You’ve gotta remember something about them.”

“I remember one of them was about folks findin’ out about Martians, deciding they still wanted to move to Mars, and killin’ ‘em all off like our ancestors did to the indigenous peoples here,” Higgs says at once.

“Sounds depressing,” Sam says.

He says it, but he doesn’t need to, because despite never reading it, he can _feel_ Higgs’ thoughts on it. How saddening it was to read a story written from before the Death Stranding, written by someone jaded by the world. And knowing that, ultimately, humanity had never actually reached the stars.

A harsh reminder that even before the Death Stranding the world was filled with pain, and people trying to make do.

Higgs has always related more to those already gone than to those still around.

Sam wants to believe that Higgs is happy with the life they’ve eked out here. It might not be grandiose and important, but it’s a life Sam is happy to lead. With a fading population of people who often live completely alone, never reaching out to others— well. It makes the union of two lonely men born in a time nobody alive remembers all the more powerful.

**

When Sam wakes, he’s groggy, out of it, and it takes him a long moment to sit up. He looks over to Higgs and ruffles his hair when he eyes him for a long moment, still lazing on his side. 

“You want coffee?”

“Sure,” Higgs says, but makes no effort to get up. Sam ends up helping him sit up, which he thinks is what Higgs wanted in the first place. He relaxes into the touch, and Sam isn’t surprised at the question he asks. “You remember anything?” 

“I remember our conversation,” Sam says, because it’s true. Already the details of the dream location, of anything that isn’t Higgs, are starting to fade. But Higgs remains clear in his mind, evidence as good as any as far as Sam’s concerned that they’d actually spoken in their sleep.

“Hmm, good,” Higgs murmurs, a pleased smile on his face.

“Do you remember the name of that book you told me about?” Sam asks, and can’t help the smile when Higgs brightens at the question.

“I don’t,” he admits, not sounding as frustrated as Sam would have assumed.

As soon as they’ve had coffee and breakfast, Sam suggests spending the afternoon in the library. 

“You, readin’ something?” Higgs drawls, looking and sounding unconvinced, but amused.

“Nah, I was thinking of makin’ you read to me,” Sam counters, meaning at as a joke, but Higgs laughs, smiling, something in his eyes glittering at the prospect.

“Do I get to provide commentary?” he asks, sounding like he’s seriously considering it.

“Sure,” Sam says, laughing himself. The idea is completely absurd, but it’s early morning, and the middle of the week. No one is going to bother them. He isn’t even certain that anyone but Abby would approach them when they’re alone together to begin with— everyone is pretty good at giving each other space in the village.

Sam isn’t surprised when Higgs sprawls out on the biggest couch, towards the back, smirking lazily at Sam. “Go on, Sammy. Pick out a book. I’ll even read ya the dictionary.” He winks, and despite the playful tone, Sam is fairly certain Higgs is being serious.

Though, honestly, they’d both get bored quickly from the dictionary option, as funny as that would be.

He strides to one of the shelves, looking it over. One of these days, maybe they should put a basic system in place. At least something to make it a little easier to find things, instead of children’s books, encyclopedias, and a random assortment of textbooks all on the same shelf. Sam spends a good couple of minutes looking, before picking one he’s fairly certain is a novel, but he supposes could be an autobiography. 

He strides over to Higgs to hand over the book to him before joining him on the couch, his back up against the other man’s chest, and though he’s used to it, he still marvels at how they can press together without even a trace of an aphenphosmphobia trigger. 

Higgs gives him a long look. “’The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner’,” he reads. “ _Sammy,_ ” he says, feigning offense. “I _do_ hope you’re not accusin’ me of something.”

“You gonna read the book or not?” Sam quips.

“Fine, fine,” Higgs says, but he’s grinning as he starts to flip through the book, moving his arms so he’s reading it over Sam’s shoulder. “…Oh,” he says, frowning down at it the book. “This is really old,” he says.

“Aren’t all of the pre-Stranding books?” Sam asks curiously.

Higgs shakes his head. “No. I mean, yeah. But this book was old even before the Stranding happened. This thing’s well over three hundred years old. I’m not even sure how much I’d understand it. Shakespeare was challenging, too, though this book ain’t nearly that old.”

“It’s in English, ain’t it?”

“’Course it is, but languages change, and I ain’t an expert. Tell ya what, I’ll read this to you so long as you don’t interrupt me every five minutes asking what something means when I don’t got a clue what it means either.”

Sam shrugs. “Sure,” he says.

“How’d you even come across a story this old to begin with? Most books I find are a lot more recent than this one,” Higgs says, sounding curious.

“Dunno. It came with one of the shipments when we first built the library.”

So with that, Higgs spends the next few hours reading. It’s actually something of a strange story, maybe because of the age of it. It does its best to make it sound like a real account, though both Sam and Higgs are fairly certain the story is fictional. Not that it matters, honestly, when the real world is strange enough.

The sound of someone stepping inside the library gets them to stop their conversation about the editor character, as to whether or not his account of things can be trusted— Sam arguing that anything he could possibly say is secondhand information at best and not something that can be trusted; Higgs arguing it doesn’t matter.

“Hi Mary,” Sam says with a wave, sitting up a little to look a little less… Intimate around someone else, though he’s still resting up against Higgs. Higgs sits up a little too, in an effort to make it look a little less like they’d spent the last hour with Sam practically in Higgs’ lap.

“Hi,” Higgs echoes, sounding a little awkward as he closes the book.

“Good morning, you two,” Mary says cheerfully, as she places a book on a shelf before approaching them, seating herself on one of the lounge chairs. “It’s nice seeing you both out more.” Sam isn’t the sort of person who wants people to discuss his relationships with other people, he never has been. It’s not about him not being happy, because he’s pretty sure he is happy. It’s just… private. Personal. Folks know, of course. They’re not stupid. But Sam hasn’t been asked about it by anyone.

It’s Higgs who speaks first, which actually takes Sam by surprise. “Well, y’know, this is my favorite spot in the whole village,” he says, giving Mary a polite smile that meets his eyes. “Was only a matter of time before I convinced Sam to join me.”

Mary chuckles at that, and it occurs to Sam that this likely isn’t the first time Higgs and Mary have met in the library. Huh. 

“He’s been tryin’ to explain this book to me,” Sam says, holding up the cover to show Mary. She doesn’t look like she recognizes it, but there are a lot of books in the library, so it’s not too much of a surprise.

The three of them talk for a while, about things that need being done around the village. More supplies, more fresh plants; Sam brings up needing to return to Mountain Knot, just to gauge the reaction. Higgs, unperturbed, brings up more books, which isn’t a shock at all. It’s nice, having someone else discussing how to keep the village running— and honestly, Higgs used to run his own company. He has experience in keeping things going, and he _is_ living with Sam. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too difficult to get him on board.

“You look so happy lately,” Mary says suddenly, looking to Sam after the conversation trails off. “You’ve barely smiled since Louise passed. But here you are,” she says, all smiles. Higgs is silent as she speaks, and Sam isn’t surprised when Mary turns her attention to him, though Higgs _does_ look surprised. “And you, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you laugh before. You’re both so good for each other.” She laughs a little. “Abby told me about her conversation with you two, but I didn’t think it appropriate for me to say anything until the two of you sorted yourselves out.”

“Ah, well,” Higgs’ face is slightly flushed, and he looks so thrown by the complement. “Thank you kindly.”

Mary laughs softly, clearly delighted. Higgs has changed; not denying it, not trying to dodge the compliment entirely. “Sorry, dears,” she says. “I’ll leave you two alone now.” 

As soon as she’s gone, Higgs wraps his arms around Sam’s waist, pulling him closer. Just like that, the easy confidence has returned. Maybe one day they’ll feel less awkward about this, about other people seeing them, but Sam doubts it.

One day they’ll be the only ones left, and it won’t matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Higgs can't remember is The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury. 
> 
> Justified Sinner is a sort of 19th century version of Fight Club where the Narrator is convinced he'll get into heaven no matter what he does, and Tyler Durden, who may or may not be Satan in disguise, convinces him to go on a crime spree. Sam and Higgs' confusion comes from the fact that the first section of the novel is narrated by a separate character only referred to as "the editor."


	51. Chapter 51

A return trip to Mountain Knot, huh? Higgs isn’t thrilled about it; he hates the Cities, how crowded and suffocating they are, how there’s no real sky to be seen, and how there’s always too much noise. But he’ll do it for Sam, because Sam wants the company. Because Higgs wants the company too, and he’s pretty sure the Knot City is far enough away that they’ll both feel lousy if one decides to stay behind. 

There’s also the little fact that the Chiral network operates entirely as a result of BTs in precarious containers. It’s a horrible idea, and Higgs is glad that Sam agrees with him on all the ways that it’s a cataclysm waiting to happen. Even if neither of them _can_ figure out what to do next.

But, right now, Higgs doesn’t want any of that. He wants to continue to talk about the book with Sam, and try not to concentrate on the fact that it’s starting to feel like the entire village is intensely aware of his relationship with Sam. 

They’re not indicating he’s unworthy, quite the opposite, but it’s still too much.

They stay in the library for another couple of hours before returning home, Higgs taking the book with him. He doesn’t feel bothered by borrowing it; he’ll bring it back, and anyway Higgs has donated plenty of his own collection to it. 

“Were you thinkin’ of headin’ to Mountain Knot today?” Higgs asks after they’ve had breakfast. 

“Yeah,” Sam says, in a tone that means there’s something Higgs is missing. 

“Why’re we goin’ back so soon? Can’t just be plants,” Higgs says, because it doesn’t make sense to him. Not that Sam often makes sense to begin with. The best communication they do tends not to involve any words at all, and that still doesn’t tell him Sam’s thoughts.

“I haven’t visited Lisa in a few years. Asked me if I could stop by.”

“Lisa?” Higgs stares at Sam, not understanding. He recognizes the name, of course he recognizes it, because everything about Sam sticks in his mind, like how the man hates socks and will go out of his way to avoid wearing them, even when they’re trekking through snow. 

“My granddaughter.”

“Oh.” 

“Lou had twins. Lisa and Clifford.”

Something aches in Higgs’ chest at the idea. He doesn’t know the names of his parents, of his real parents, to even consider naming a kid after them. Not that he’s ever wanted one. Someone like him, raising a child? Christ, that would have been a mess long before he’d met Amelie.

A thought occurs to him, one he hasn’t wanted to voice before, because it makes him uncomfortable, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it regardless of the answer. But he still asks. “Sam… did Fragile have children?”

Something he can’t quite place passes through Sam’s eyes. “No,” he says.

“I see.” The answer doesn’t surprise him, but there is a… finality to it he doesn’t like. The knowledge that he has no way to atone for what he did to her. Amelie had willed it, and Higgs doesn’t think he’d been in a position to refuse even if he hadn’t already been consumed by mania. But Fragile had been his partner, his friend. They’d worked together to build an America free of the UCA’s influence, and then he’d betrayed her.

Sam reaches over, pats him on the shoulder, always able to read Higgs. “You can’t change the past. Only thing you can do is move forward.”

Higgs doesn’t know what to say. For a long time he doesn’t say anything. “So your kid named her twins after your parents? Sounds like she had a big heart.”

“She remembered _my_ memories of my father, even when she was an adult. For a while, Deadman thought they were her memories; even though by his own admission, that was completely impossible. I’m still not sure how they were triggered by hooking up to her pod.”

“Memories are funny things,” Higgs says, shrugging. “Maybe she became hyper aware of your connection to the Beach.”

“Could be,” Sam says, readily agreeing. “She always knew things. Things about the past, about the future. Things people had almost forgotten.” 

It sounds so different from the DOOMS he’s familiar with, but he doesn’t doubt for a moment Lou possessed such powers, when she was incredibly powerful even as a BB. Being the Death Stranding, it’s almost certain all descendants of Sam will have it, too.

**

The walk to Mountain Knot is almost painfully uneventful. It means they arrive at the city with no problem, not even the smallest bit of timefall on the radar, and Sam leads Higgs all the way to the apartments where his granddaughter lives.

Sam knocks on the door and moves to grip at Higgs’ shoulder when he tries to step back, out of the way. “Please don’t,” he says, which is enough to get Higgs to stop, to instead stand next to Sam.

“Granddad!” The woman who greets Sam at the door looks so happy to see him, and Higgs is struck in the moment by how tragic the scene in front of him is. Even as she pulls Sam into an embrace, one he doesn’t even tense at, it’s wrong. She looks older than Sam, though by how much Higgs isn’t exactly certain. She’s old and tired-looking, and possibly has grandchildren of her own.

With the days ticking by slowly, having spent what he’s fairly certain is less than a year in the village, Higgs has never before had to face just how far out of time he is, has never really been forced to consider just how far out of time _Sam_ is. He wishes he could feel Sam’s emotions, feel his thoughts, like he could when they’d shared the same dream.

It’s when Lisa’s attention turns to him that Higgs suddenly feels uncomfortable, awkward. No longer able to be a silent observer just hanging back. “You must be Higgs,” she says warmly, and though he’s gotten used to the idea of being an unknown, however wrong it feels, it’s something entirely different to be greeted that way by the daughter of the infant he’d shot at for protecting Sam from danger. “Granddad’s told me a little about you.”

She offers a hand for him, and when he takes it hesitantly, she grasps it in a surprisingly strong grip, and seems to take… _something_ in, the way her brows furrow for a moment, before she pulls him into a hug. An impressive feat, for a woman a foot shorter than him.

“Ah, nice to meet you, too, ma’am?” Higgs manages to squeak. Lisa pulls out of the hug and invites them inside. When Higgs shoots Sam a look, he looks amused.

“She’s got DOOMS,” he says, like that explains everything.

DOOMS doesn’t explain why she’d hug the man who shot at her mama before her mama had even been born.

Higgs takes an awkward, pensive seat at the kitchen table with Sam and his granddaughter, feeling like he’s intruding even though Sam is the one who brought him here. Sam and Lisa talk, and Higgs is grateful that Sam is giving him enough space to not immediately pull him into a conversation he doesn’t feel like he should be interrupting. Every time something like this happens, every reminder of Sam’s life outside of the village, Higgs is reminded of every way he fucked things up for Sam.

Without Higgs there at all, maybe Sam would have had a happy life with his wife and daughter. Staying in that shelter with Daddy would have killed him; Daddy would have killed him, but it would have been a better outcome for Sam.

It’s Lisa, not Sam, who pulls him out of his thoughts, a gentle hand on his. “What would you like to drink? I have tea, coffee, and fresh lemonade.”

“Uh, lemonade sounds wonderful.”

Has he ever _had_ lemonade? People in cities live such different lives than prepper kids. …Speaking of that, though, Sam was raised a rich kid, but has never acted like it; he lives pretty humbly in the village. Even in the city, Lisa’s home is a modest one; it really does seem like her only advantage is she has an easier time accessing fresh food than Higgs ever did.

…Then again, maybe that was just Higgs. He grew up alone, surviving mostly on handouts.

Their conversation turns to the village. Lisa didn’t grow up in it, but she’d spent a lot of her early childhood there. Higgs notices how Lisa’s brother hasn’t really been brought up— he’s not about to _say_ anything, but it’s noticeable just the same. 

They talk about how Higgs has started a basic filing system, nothing too complicated, but a way to make it easier for people to find what they’re looking for in the library. Sure, technically, they could use the Chiral to find books, but it seems like the people who grew up in a village founded by Sam Bridges are nostalgic for a world they never knew, just like Higgs.

There are so many interesting things, like that, and it’s strange talking to someone new who agrees.

“I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who’s so organized and messy at the same time as Higgs,” Sam says cheerfully, patting him on the shoulder, anchoring him back to the present. “Puts books away on the shelf in alphabetical order, but he dumps any notes he’s taking on the floor and doesn’t care if they end up out of order.”

Higgs tenses, he can’t help it, but there’s no judgement in Sam’s voice; it’s gentle teasing, nothing more. “Ain’t you the one who lets dishes pile up?” Higgs challenges, and feels victorious when Sam responds by lightly shoving him.

Whatever Lisa’s thinking, it doesn’t occur to Higgs that they’re being watched until she brings her hands to her mouth. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you smile again, Granddad,” she says. 

Higgs says nothing, thrown by how many people have been saying that with him present lately. He’s even more thrown when Lisa turns to him. “And you, you have a good heart. I’m glad I was able to meet you face-to-face.”

“T-thank you,” Higgs manages, not able to hide the tremor in his voice. He’s not used to this, doesn’t deserve it— and then she’s offering them lunch.

He doesn’t know what to make of the hospitality, doesn’t think he’s going to be getting used to people complimenting him anytime soon, but then Lisa’s offering them seconds, and Higgs thinks maybe it doesn’t matter. People like him, as odd as it seems.

People like Higgs for being himself, for being the real Higgs, the man he was long before Amelie.

It’s such a strange thing to find himself faced with.

**

When they leave Lisa’s home, they only walk for a short while before Sam stops, shoulders quivering. “Sam?” Higgs asks, worried. A little confused. Sam doesn’t answer, instead wrapping his arms around Higgs, shaking.

He isn’t sure what’s happening, doesn’t know what to make of this. It takes him a moment to realize Sam is crying. “Sam?” he asks again.

“I can’t stand it,” Sam says, his voice cracking. He doesn’t sob, but his voice still makes something inside of Higgs break. “She’s all I have left. When she passes, I won’t have any family at all.” Sam has always seemed so in control, so assured. So confident. It’s like some illusion has shattered in front of him, revealing a truth that was always there. Sam is just a man. He’s always been just a man, human and vulnerable, with all the fucked up complexes that come from being forced to be a pawn in something he never wanted any part of to begin with.

“Sam,” Higgs says, not sure what the hell he’s saying even as he says it. “That’s not true. You’ve got a lotta people who care about you.” Sam huffs at him, against his chest. But he hasn’t let go, so Higgs figures that mean he’s saying something he’s supposed to be saying. “Besides, you’re my family.”

Even as he says it, it feels like such a strange thing to admit, but Sam stops quivering at the admission, and Higgs chances returning the embrace. Sam doesn’t tense at all, seems to melt against it instead. He’s silent for a long time before Higgs hears the quiet, “thank you,” and Sam straightens up enough Higgs lets his arms fall to his side.

Given the conversation they had last night, it really shouldn’t surprise him, but somehow still does, when Sam pulls him into a kiss. It’s chaste, given they’re in public, but it’s not nothing, especially considering how reserved they both are.

It feels so strange, the notion that Sam needs Higgs as much as Higgs needs Sam. 

He still doesn’t understand how someone like Sam could want someone like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my thanks to everyone who has left comments for me! Even if I don't reply, I read every single one of them.


End file.
